Horror at the Harvest Festival
by HeadIntheCloudsForever
Summary: Loosely based on the games, Nancy Drew is now older, 26, and working a mundane job as a receptionist in River Heights PD. When a date with a surprise from her boyfriend, Ned, turns sour after an explosion at the Harvest Fest a week before Halloween, Nancy's skills are pushed to the limit. Can she outwit an enemy who seems to know her every move?
1. Chapter 1: Surprise at the Festival

Nancy Drew would give her boyfriend another five minutes before calling and raising some semblance of holy hell. The twenty-six-year-old amateur detective tossed her wavy auburn red hair over her shoulders that fell to her collarbones in soft layers, framing her thin oval face. Her eyes were a brilliant blue, the color of the sky after a fresh rain. She caught sight of her reflection in a mirror in a shop window, giving a shy smile to the girl staring back at her. Her dark green wrap maxi dress was embroidered with little white flowers, her brown sandals coordinating her outfit perfectly. Or should she say, Bess's outfit that her friend had loaned her for the evening, insisting she keep it.

The young detective wasn't much for fashion, but for nights like tonight out with Ned, she would make an exception for. Her friend wouldn't let her out of the house until she'd changed into something the fashionista deemed 'appropriate' for the detective to leave the house and especially not before helping the sleuth apply a light natural makeup to her features, insisting that she would be beautiful. Sighing exasperatedly, Nancy plunked her cell phone back into her small dark brown nylon crossbody bag the color of coffee. Yet another quirk that Bess would chastise her for, claiming the little purse wasn't "ladylike," given that it was made from a nylon material, not leather like Bess's purses, but Nancy didn't care. She preferred function over fashion when it came to her bags, and with all its pockets and zippers, her purse held all of her things and more than she ever needed and was water resistant in inclement weather, so Bess could shove that kind of talk. Nancy never paid it any mind. It wasn't that she didn't have time for fashion, per say, just other things were more important to the young detective. Such as solving crimes and working her job at the PD.

"Where are you, Ned? You're late!" she whispered.

"Try taking a look behind you," came a warm, rich melodious voice that caused Nancy to let out a squeal of delight and whirl around, finding herself face-to-face with her long-term boyfriend, Ned Nickerson as he snaked his arms around her waist and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. "Sorry I'm late. You look beautiful, Nan, I love that dress on you," he apologized. Nancy shifted in his arms to look her boyfriend in the eyes and study his expression, desperately searching his eyes for the truth. Ned Nickerson had the kind of face that stopped you in your tracks. Nancy guessed he must get used to that, the sudden pause in a person's natural expression when they looked his way followed by overcompensating with a nonchalant gaze and a weak smile. Of course, the blush that accompanied it was a dead give-away.

It didn't help that Ned was so modest with it; it made all the girls fall for him all the more, including Nancy. Despite all the opportunity that came Ned's way, he was a one-woman man who prized genuineness and thoughtful conversation above lipstick and high heels. He was handsome, all right, but inside he was beautiful. Nancy was grateful to call him hers.

Nancy thought her boyfriend was looking especially handsome this late afternoon in jeans and a simple black turtleneck sweater. Ned Nickerson had tousled dark brown hair cropped short, which was thick and lustrous. His eyes were a mesmerizing deep brown, a rich color of umber mixed with dark oak, the boughs of the bark of the tress after a rain. His face was strong and defined, his features molded from granite. He had dark eyebrows, which sloped downwards in a slightly serious expression. His usually playful smile had drawn into a hard line across his face. His perfect lips ripe for kissing, which Nancy happily did. His strong hands, slightly rough from working, held hers as he stared deep into his girlfriend's eyes. She couldn't help but blush under the scrutiny of his gaze. His smile etched its way back onto his face. His body was warm and toned as he hugged Nancy, comforting to the touch. His voice was deep, with a serious tone. His lips brushed her ear as he spoke in her ear, "I really do love you."

Nancy blushed deeper. "I love you too, Ned," she whispered. "Where should we go?" she asked, craning her neck to look up at her boyfriend. "What do you want to do, Ned?"

He grinned in that infectious way of his in a way that always sends Nancy's head and heart reeling. "I thought you and I could take in the Harvest Festival in downtown River Heights? It is October after all, week before Halloween."

The detective returned his smile and instinctively reached for his hand. "I'd like that." She glanced back behind his shoulder, her brow furrowed slightly. "What about Bess and George?" she asked quizzically. "Are they coming? I thought they'd be here by now!"

It did not escape her attention that her boyfriend's facial expression shifted to one of uncomfortable and he grew nervous. "Um, no, actually they're…sitting this one out, Nance."

She quirked her brow at Ned, not fully believing it. "Why?" was all she asked.

He reached up a hand to scratch at an itch behind his ear, shifting uncomfortably where he stood. "Well…they know you and I don't get much time to ourselves, and they thought you and I could enjoy a night out, just the two of us."

She breathed a sigh of relief, and gave his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "All right, then. I'll drop it," she teased, flashing a brilliant white smile Ned's way. Nancy could see how his shoulders relaxed and he grew more at ease, as if he had been worried about something. "Ned…is everything okay?"

Her question seemed to jolt Ned Nickerson out of his thoughts, as he seemed to be lost in thought, concentrating hard about something. "What? D—did you say something, Nan? I'm sorry," he grinned sheepishly, running a hand through his dark hair and smiling at her. "I—I must have been thinking about something."

Nancy frowned but chose not to comment on it for now, though her detective senses were tingling. _Why are you acting so funny, Ned?_

They didn't speak much on the walk to the festival, merely taking in the sights of October in River Heights. Red, orange and yellow in various different shades. All of them floating gracefully on the soft breeze. It was if a friendly hand was gently lowering them to the ground. Whispers between these leaves filled the air, whispers and mutters. The air was cool and crisp, like a refreshing drink of cold water after hours in a desert. The breeze fluttered around, gently caressing everything it touched with fingers that had been a comfort to many over their long, lonely years.

It was the magic hour, when the sun dyed everything in gold, when it finally stopped raining and the clouds partially disappeared, allowing some sunrays to reach the city. The light was sweet and the cold autumn breeze after the rain welcomed her like an old friend. The calmly sound of the soft wind caressing the autumn leafs covered her ears. Some of them fell over her while walking and she smiled. She missed the smell of the rain, the fallen leafs and the autumn sun. It was mid October, and she could feel the autumn breeze running through her veins, caressing her lungs and lay deep inside her heart, filling her with a nostalgic, calm happiness she had no memories to have felt it before. She loved fall.

The Harvest Festival in River Heights was always something of a street party, an excuse for the whole town to let their hair down and have fun. The very air itself smelled like the festival already, and Nancy's fingers were electric, tingling with joy. Her mind was buzzing, her limbs so charged up that walking just wasn't an option. Every normal thought and worry was banished, there simply was no room for it with all the excitement in her mind. She breathed in deep, savoring the crisp October air. This day was her vacation from reality, when she didn't have to think about her mundane, boring job as receptionist at the police department, or what her friends were doing with their lives, no, this was the day when fantastical creatures blessed the streets with their smiles and feathers; the scent of baked pumpkin and apple pies from local vendors filled the air. The couple took the time to participate in some of the festival activities. Nancy won a dart throwing game and won a small stuffed cow as her prize for winning, and Ned purchased small apple and blueberry pies for them to share as he set out a blanket on a nearby grassy hill, away from the crowds and overlooking the festival and River Heights.

Every once in a while, Nancy would catch Ned shooting her a nervous glance out of the corner of her eye when he thought she couldn't see. She pretended to ignore it, though she could feel the heat rise to her cheeks. Swirled in her ice-cream cup was the last slice of the mini pumpkin pie, a desert worth savoring. First the miracle of leftover pie had to happen first, the chances of which must be hovering around zero, and then Nancy had the genius idea to mix it into her sundae, allowing Ned a few hearty bites.

Almost as if he could sense her looking, he looked out over the grassy hilltop as they sat perched on the blanket he'd brought for the two of them to sit on, just watching the sights of the festival. "Actually, Nan, I…there was a reason it's just you and me tonight. I asked Bess and George to sit this one out tonight, Nancy. I—I needed tonight to be special," he said suddenly, his voice sounding tense.

"Oh?" asked Nancy, raising an eyebrow. _Maybe at last he'll tell me the truth_, she thought. "Why, Ned?" she asked gently. "Talk to me," she encouraged, not unkindly. "What's going on? Your face is white, like you've seen a ghost!" she teased, hoping the joke would lighten his mood, but whatever was weighing on his mind was serious. His expression was solemn, no hint or trace of joking in his eyes.

Her boyfriend took a deep breath and ran a hand through his dark hair and took a few steps back from Nancy. "I just…" he hesitated, biting his lip, but finally decided to just speak his piece and say what was on his mind. "You and I, Nan, we've been through so much together since we were eighteen. On again, off again, then we were serious by the time you were nineteen, and there were so many occasions over the last eight years where I thought I'd lost you, and it made me realize that there's something I'd regret more than anything in the world if I didn't do it soon, and that's not telling you the truth how I feel about you," he said, his brown eyes boring deep into Nancy's, making her feel like he could see past her heart and to her soul. "When I look at you, it's as if space and time become the finest point imaginable, as if my universe begins and ends with you, Nancy Drew. I could run forever, search forever, but in the end, every path I'm on leads right back to you, to your heart and soul, Nance."

"Ned…" Nancy whispered, her voice cracking slightly as she fought back the onset of tears.

Ned Nickerson took a deep breath and knelt down on one knee, opening a tiny black ring box, revealing a beautiful plain gold wedding band, simple, clean and classic. Perfect for Nancy. "You don't make it easy for me to ask a simple question, Nance, but that's what I love about you, one of many things. I love you, Nancy Drew. You're the woman that I want to spend the rest of my life with, if you'll have me. The trust I give you, that you give me, is what keeps us safe in this world, in this life. So whether this heart beats another day or another hundred years - it is yours. Nancy Drew, will you do me the extraordinary honor of becoming my wife? Will you marry me?"

Nancy's mouth fell open, but didn't get the chance to give Ned her answer as the resonating sound of an explosion filled the air, and terrified screams erupted from the festival. Wrenching Nancy to her feet and grabbing her by her arm, almost violently, Ned shoved her forward into the throng of people scrambling for safety, running towards their cars in the festival's parking lot. Nancy wasn't even aware she was screaming for Ned, as the sky turned black, thick plumes of smoke covering the festival grounds. She began to cough, smoke and ash residue starting to fill her lungs. She could see on the amphitheater stage a costumed figure in black, shouting something inaudible over the screams. The figure was too far away for Nancy to make out any details of the person's face from this distance, but she could tell by the person's build that it was a man. Whoever he was, was tall and stocky, his costume hiding his features. _A terrorist? Some sick man's idea of a Halloween joke? A massacre at the Harvest Festival? _Nancy shouted for Ned, screaming his name as she fought the massive waves of people, daring to go back into the festival in a vain attempt to search for her boyfriend.

The detective turned to respond to the sound of someone calling for help, someone screaming. She thought she heard her name being called, but before she could take two steps forward, Nancy's skin went ashen and she stumbled forward before she fell. She knew she would faint when her stomach gave out. It felt like her innards were being replaced by some kind of black hole. Then nausea crept from her abdomen to her head and the world went black, the sounds of screams still resonating in her ears long after she'd lost consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2: The Note

Terry McGinnis watched the deep flames of the enraged fire through blurry eyes. He practically couldn't breathe, nor can he hear even the simplicity of his heart racing in his chest. What was once beautiful wilted and cracked under the ferocity of the flames from the explosion, turning to ash and dust. The police chief continued to choke and splutter under the thick sack, his struggling ceasing. The smoke smelt of kerosene, and had a strange scent of perfume through it. The smoke was a deep, dark grey color. Intoxicating. Choking. Strangely beautiful.

Police Chief Terry McGinnis had thought he'd seen it all. He'd fled the relative chaos of Chicago's nightlife under the city lights for the relative peace and quiet of a small town life. Small towns like River Heights he considered his safe haven, a sanctuary from his time in Chicago. All in all, during his time spent in River Heights since he'd made the move from Chicago to River Heights thirty years ago, he'd responded to seven domestic violence calls, five pranks, two cats stuck in a tree, and only one murder. He thought he'd had it made, but as he looked at the carnage before him, he knew he hadn't. The town was what a village becomes with no city planning and a great enthusiasm for architecture. Every building was different, borrowing this and that from another era. It made the place as glorious as his beloved grandmother's homemade quilts, every patch unique and as eye catching as the one before. But now, none of it was recognizable. All thanks to…this mess.

"Damn it. What the hell happened here?" growled Chief McGinnis darkly, his cigarette still clamped in his mouth. A bad habit, he knew, and his wife would give him seven shades of holy hell for starting up again after he'd worked so hard to quit, but tonight was a night if ever there was one where he truly needed this vice to get him through it.

The head of police of River Heights was a tall man in his mid fifties with a stocky build underneath his uniform. His black hair was cut short, and flecked with the beginnings of gray, his moustache bristly but neatly trimmed, almost as if it had been penciled there.

Parts of the Harvest Festival were still burning. The smoke filling the air gave River Heights a Halloween blood red sun—_how fitting_, thought Chief McGinnis coldly. On this, the festival that was supposed to honor and respect the dead, the holiday that has become the worship of carnage and horror, there won't be any jack o' lanterns this year in River Heights. There won't be a need for damaged and tatty clothing, or fake dismembered limbs. There is no shortage of the real thing, of the blood that congeals and browns. The very air the chief and his men breathed as they scoured and combed the area for survivors, any witnesses that could tell them what happened, was pungent with the odor of the recently deceased and no one could figure out how the townspeople earned this ticket to Hell. No one would be giving out candy on Halloween next week, that much the chief knew. They might not even celebrate the holiday anymore after this massacre.

Someone had deliberately done this, made the people run full circle to their ancestors who lived as close to death as River Heights now did, in these dark days of war. _War?_ The chief's consciousness pricked up.

"Yup. This is now war. Whoever did this crossed a nonnegotiable line when he blew up one of the banks and a gas station," he hissed, talking mostly to himself, although every once in a while, his new rookie lieutenant, Luke, would shoot him a dark glare. _We live moment to moment on cold ashes that fall with the grace of snow, yet lays over everything living and dead_, the police chief thought, distraught as he glanced around at a few of the bodies that lay lifeless, scattered among the rubble. No telling what kind of a death count awaited the city, let alone the injured that had been taken in bus loads to the local hospital. _They are cold. So cold. The life that had dwelt within them has gone and they are safe from the perils of this world. No harm can come to them now. Hearts that used to beat with love are still. Minds that felt so many emotions are blank. We dig the graves and pray their spirits are well received in the after life. Their limbs are soft; the time of rigor mortis has passed. We lay them on their backs, feet together, arms folded over their chests and eyes closed. We make a cross with daisies over each torso and blow them a kiss for the journey. Then with heavy hearts we take our spades and begin to cover them in the black earth._

"Sir!" spoke up a new voice, startling the chief out of his grim thoughts, one of his men, scrambling forward, looking winded and out of breath, holding a scorched piece of paper in his hand, already bagged and tagged. "We—I found this near the amphitheater stage, I—I don't…just take a look at it, please, Chief."

Chief McGinnis merely grunted in response, snatching it from the young lieutenant with perhaps more force than was necessary, leaving the young lieutenant to wring his hands together painfully as he watched and waited. "What the hell is this, Bryan?" he snapped, his eyes scanning the message.

"A—a message, sir," he said nervously.

The chief of police was only vaguely aware of Luke peering over his shoulder. He heard Luke's gasp of surprise and ignored it.

Chief McGinnis' attention was drawn to the name Nancy Drew scrawled on the backside of the letter, scrawled in black inky writing. Carefully, with gloved hands, he flipped the letter over in its plastic Ziploc bag and began to read it out loud.

_Nancy, _

_I've been watching you for quite some time now. It's how I got my name, you know. My love, if you stay with me, I'll kill you bit by bit. That's what I do to those who love me. Why? I may never know. If I have enough power over you, it puts me in control. Having control makes you strong, and nobody likes weak. It gives me satisfaction. Almost like it is the thing that drives me. The thing I would do anything for. When you are flying high, I'll drag you down. I'll eat at your problems just enough to break you, but still be the one to soothe you. You have chosen this life by not realizing what I have done to you. You're my little doll; and your life is determined by what happens in my dollhouse. I have something important of yours—something I think that you will want back. Your precious boyfriend. Oh, don't worry. He's safe. For now. Come find us. If you dare. I can't wait to see you again, love; it's been too long_, _and your boyfriend is just DYING to see you, Nancy_. _Don't keep us waiting too long. His life depends on it. _

_The Watcher. _

"_Shit_. Damn it. Looks like we've got ourselves one sick psycho, boys. Let's catch this bastard and make him pay for what he did here tonight, the lives he's ruined," he murmured, his teeth clamped on the remains of his cigarette, not aware he was chewing on the end of it, the thick taste of nicotine filling his mouth and settling on his tongue. "Miss Drew, where is she?" he asked. "She's going to want to see this, I think," he snapped. It was no secret among Chief McGinnis' men that while he initially disapproved of Nancy's 'unorthodox' methods, he held an immense regard of respect for the young detective and her father, esteemed lawyer, Carson Drew. "Carson is going to need to see this as well. It's his daughter's life at stake, and this boy."

"She's here, sir," spoke up Luke from behind him. Chief McGinnis whirled around and for a second, his blood ran cold and his heart almost stopped. The young woman in Luke's arms was unconscious; her head resting against Luke's chest, her face pallid and a cut from one of her brows was trickling blood down her face. She was otherwise unharmed. Luke briefly grabbed her wrist and felt for a pulse. "Still alive, sir, but her pulse is faint."

Chief McGinnis sighed. Questioning Miss Drew would have to wait. He airily waved a hand at Luke. "This isn't the way the world should be, Luke. What happened here tonight was atrocious. We're going to catch this bastard and make the freak pay. Take her to the hospital, Luke, and _stay_ there with her _at all times_. If this person—whoever did this—is after her, I _don't_ want her left alone or wandering off on her own. I know Miss Drew, Luke, and she's going to want to see this through on her own, given that it's her boyfriend's life at stake here. But I don't want her handling this alone; she isn't equipped to deal with this nutjob like we are. From now on, you're her partner. Where she goes, you go too. I'm sure her father would wholeheartedly agree," he muttered under his breath. He sighed again and rubbed his temples. Gods, he was getting a splitting stress headache.

It was going to be poor Luke's job to tell the girl what had happened to her boyfriend. It was no secret among the men in his precinct the young rookie had a crush on Miss Drew, ever since she started her job as receptionist with them two years ago. Luke constantly pestered the girl, insisting she try for full detective, but if there's one thing Nancy was, it was stubborn. She liked being an amateur detective, and never wanted to carry a gun.

"We're going to catch this prick, Nancy," he spoke up quietly under his breath so that no one else could hear him as he continued walking among the rubble with the rest of his men and the firefighters, looking for survivors. "God speed to Mr. Nickerson. We'll get him back. We're going to get him back, Nance."

Chief McGinnis groaned, taking a sip of coffee in a Styrofoam cup one of his officers had brought him, and went back to searching.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

It was supposed to have been easy for the Watcher to nab his target, the young man named Ned Nickerson. He'd been watching the younger man for months now, and thought he knew his routine. He walked the same routes every day, got the same cup of coffee and the same doughnut every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday on his walk to his job at the high school, where he taught physical education and helped coach the high school football team. The Harvest Festival had been the Watcher's chance to nab him at last.

But Ned Nickerson hadn't made it easy. _He_ wasn't easy. He'd put up one hell of a fight, and it showed. The bruise under his right eye was purpling already, and eventually it would yellow with age. His jeans and sweater were scorched with rubble from the explosion, and his dark hair was matted and tangled with congealed blood, but the Watcher was confident the man wouldn't wake for several more hours, and when he did, well…he wouldn't be going anywhere. Nancy Drew's boyfriend was currently hogtied to the back of a chair, restrained at the Watcher's mercy.

The young man glanced down at his watch and suppressed a tiny sigh of disappointment. How he wanted to stay and be here when Mr. Nickerson woke up, but his time with his precious love was calling him. He needed to see her, to be around her. The Watcher had this primal instinct to kill, but somehow, when was around her, those urges vanished.

The man who called himself Watcher stood towering over Ned Nickerson's unconscious form in his chair, an unpleasant grimace on his face. He walked up to Ned's limp form, feeling like a wild beast pulling against its leash, and pointed the edge of his dagger to his chin. He wished the man were awake, so he could savor Mr. Nickerson's reaction.

"She's _mine_," he told Ned quietly, feeling his voice go dangerously soft and quiet, practically watching the anger and venom drip from his words. He picked up the small black ring box he'd found in the man's jeans pocket and flicked it open, surveying the simple gold band with a look of utter disgust and hatred. "I was there for all her troubles. I was there when she was sad from heartbreak, angry or hurt from the insults people like Deirdre Shannon or that bitch of a reporter, Lana, threw at her daily. I was there by her side, helping and celebrating with Nan. I. Will. Not. Allow. You. To take her away from me. She…is…mine…."

Only for so long would the Watcher remain calm, after each rant his inner countdown to his next explosion began. He needed to fight often, part of him craved it. They say that we recreate our childhoods, seek the same dysfunction we escaped from; in that case the writing was always on the wall. But when he was around Nancy, none of that was there.

He had to make her see how important she was to him, how desperately he needed her.

"You'll see, Nancy," he whispered, shooting one last look of disgust towards Ned's way, keeping his grim satisfied smile to himself as he pulled the door shut behind him and locked it. They wouldn't find him here. Not until he wanted the two of them to be found.

The Watcher had always maintained a cool detachment to his targets. Mostly he preferred not to think of them, but when he did it was as if they were already dead - walking meat bags waiting to be dispatched to the butcher. He thought of them as meeting their destiny and he was merely the conduit. Everyone has to die sometime, and he considered it a good way to go. No illness, no drawn-out goodbyes. They were just happy and oblivious one second and gone the next. Simple. Convenient. Painless. "But not you," he growled, speaking to Ned, though he had long since vacated the premises where he was keeping Mr. Nickerson. For now. "There's no going quick for you, man. I'm going to make you suffer. You don't deserve someone like Nancy in your life. _She's mine_…"

The alarm on his watch went off, signaling his time with Mr. Nickerson was up for now. There would be time enough for that later.

But now, time to pay his angel a visit.


	3. Chapter 3: Bearer of Bad Tidings

The ghost was more silent than the grave it arose from, staring with heavy-lidded eyes and a slack mouth. Her cheekbones accentuated the skeletal look and in her gaze, Nancy's mind was robbed of emotion. Instead of running, or screaming, Nancy stood more still than the mossy statue in the heart of the graveyard and just as cold. She beckoned with fingers that rapidly faded to only a suggestion of form.

The young detective passed each stone without taking account of the path until Nancy stood in a place that was unrecognizable. She became more solid again, but this time her skin bore many silver scars, thick and jagged. Nancy began to think of new things, "I want to stay here with her, forever." The thought became a desire and her insides lit with an intensity to make it possible. Nancy's body crumpled to the dirt, leaves and mud met the side of her face and her knees curled up like an unborn. It was then she heard Ned shout her name, over and over. Nancy opened her mouth to speak but nothing would come. He was frantic, yelling, scared….

A noise startled Nancy out of her nightmare and she awoke with a jolt and sat up faster than she should have, her body bathed in a cold sweat. Nausea clawed at her throat as she clutched the edges of the white bedsheets as she tried forcing down the bile, but it was too late. She wasn't aware of someone shoving a dark blue basin under her head, but she was grateful as her stomach violently contracted until there was nothing left to bring up, though her stomach continued to heave at how sick she was feeling. Nancy's head throbbed. The pain felt like someone had taken a knife to her skull. She leaned her head back against a stiff, cold, unfamiliar pillow, but she didn't care right now where she was or how she got here. Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed the pain to go away. The rest of the world became detached, all she could concentrate on was the pain rooted deep in her head. She could barely hear the people chattering around her. All she felt, all she knew was the pain of that moment. When she lifted her left hand to study it, it was trembling uncontrollably and she could barely see through her haze an IV sticking out of her hand. "What…?" she groaned, clenching her eyes shut at the blinding white light of the room she was in. "Where am I?" she moaned.

"Hey," said a man's voice, sounding immensely relieved and yet worried to see her awake and alert after what felt like hours. "It's so good to see you. How are you feeling?"

Nancy blearily tried to focus her gaze a few feet in front of herself as her vision slowly adjusted to her new surroundings. The hospital room is a concrete pen with a window the size of a biscuit tin lid. It has a stagnant smell like it's cleaned with plain water instead of disinfectant. The bed sits low to the ground, the frame baring the signs of rust and the mattress worryingly thin. Nancy bit her lip. Leaving wasn't an option and staying promises to be a slowly unfolding nightmare.

She turned her head to the left and had hoped Ned would be there when she awoke and quickly realized it was Frank Hardy, his brother Joe hesitantly lingering in the doorway, a pained expression on his face. Frank was holding her hand with the IV attached, a worried expression in his eyes.

The two Hardy brothers could not have been more opposite. Frank was tall, muscular, and a year or two older than Ned, with thick brown hair cropped short, and beautiful dark brown eyes. She focused on his eyes, which were darting back and forth, shining in the sunlight streaming in through the hospital's window. They were a deep, earthy brown - the color of the earth after torrential rains. But there was something else in them, something glistening. Glistening like an old copper penny being examined in the warmth next to powerful flames that were licking the safety glass door of an old fireplace. They held secrets, the same way a pot holds layers of deep soil- cradling- because it is essential to keep the plant safe. The roots are held in place the same way his dark, liquid eyes held so tightly onto his secrets.

Joe, on the other hand, was shorter than his older brother, and a bit leaner, his hair a mop of blond strands, his bangs sometimes falling forward to hide his face. And his eyes, His eyes were the softest brown infused with green, as if he held the new spring growth inside. They were the forest floor and the gentle flowers, somewhere to rest and breathe.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a small vase of fresh red roses in water, her stuffed cow she'd won at the festival, a Get Well card, and her bag lay on the night table. A guilty pang pierced her heart. _Ned_. She opened her mouth to try to speak his name, but all that came out was a hoarse croak. Nancy felt a little guilty as Frank looked at her expectantly. "My…my head hurts, Frank. What happened?"

The nurse entered the room in blue scrubs, a grim expression on her face, serious, washing her hands at the sink like she was lost entirely to worrying thoughts. When she turned to Nancy, her face softened into a smile and she introduced herself before asking what had brought Nancy to the hospital. She listened while taking her pulse, feeling her skin and pinching her nail beds of her fingers and toes. "That's to be expected," spoke up the nurse, a kind woman by the name of Lisa in her mid-thirties with light brown hair pulled up in a loose bun, her light blue scrubs almost soothing to Nancy's frayed spirit. "It's perfectly normal after blunt trauma. You were in an explosion, Miss Drew, but you're okay. You hit your head. The crowd trying to get out of the festival trampled you. You're okay, but we're keeping you here overnight for observation just to be safe. Any questions?"

"Where's…Ned…?" she rasped out weakly, her throat burning and feeling on fire. Frank seemed to sense her struggles and immediately reached for the glass of water at her bedside table, swatting Nancy's hand away gently as she tried to lift her hand to take it.

"No, Nancy," he said firmly but not unkindly. "You can barely stand up, let alone do anything else but rest right now. Just let me—_let us_ help you," Frank ordered, his brown eyes blazing with the intensity of a wildfire as he glared at the young detective, who had been about to argue, but upon seeing his stern glare, decided against, nodding her head weakly and allowed Frank Hardy to help her. "Good."

She caught Joe exchanging the briefest of glances with the nurse, and it didn't take much for her detective skills to know something wasn't right. Nancy recognized one of the officers sitting in a chair in the corner of the hospital room, staying silent, but stoic.

"Luke?" she choked out after several hearty sips of water and able to regain some of her voice. "Where's Ned?" she managed to gasp out. "He was…with me at the festival, but…"

Officer Luke Perry suddenly looked uncomfortable as he shifted in his seat, his police jacket smelling of ash and smoke fumes. Officer Perry seemed to be struggling to form the right words to speak what was on his mind. "Miss Drew, I…we're…we're going to go through something very hard right now, but I want you to know that you're not alone."

"No…" she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper and cracking as she fought back tears. "Where's Ned?" she demanded, feeling her voice grow hard and angry as her gaze flitted between Frank, Luke, and Joe. "Where is he?" she shouted, ignoring the nurse's protests to remain calm, struggling against her hold as she was injected with something.

"It's nothing we ever expected," Frank said, sounding incredibly heartbroken and almost unable to look Nancy in the eyes. She didn't protest as he looked to the nurse for confirmation, who merely gave a curt nod in response, signaling the eldest Hardy brother that she would allow it. He gingerly scooted towards the edge of Nancy's bed and helped Nancy to sit up. Nancy didn't protest as Frank held her, whispering soothing remarks in her ear, stroking her hair, doing what he could to try to take away her pain and keep her calm.

"He's been taken by whoever blew up the bank and the gas station at the Harvest Festival," offered Officer Perry, holding out the bagged note for Frank to take. "This was left for you, Miss Drew," he explained, his voice trailing off and falling silent as Frank held the letter close enough for both of them to read it in silence.

Nancy could feel the sweat drench her skin, the throbbing of her own eyes, the ringing screams of the people from the Harvest Fest still vibrating in her ears, and the breathing she couldn't hear herself taking deep gasping breaths, gasping for air that seemingly wasn't there, but she could feel the oxygen flooding in and out of her lungs as her brain worked on overdrive and struggled to catch up to the information she'd just learned.

Ned was gone and it was all her fault.

Her fingers are curled into a fist, her nails digging into her palm as her eyes scan the words of the perp's letter, not really reading it.

The world around her turned into a blur, and so did all the sounds. The taste. The smell. Everything was just…gone. Nancy paused, trying to hold back the strange feelings welling inside of her, threatening to erupt and break free, but she just couldn't. Ned was gone, and whoever held him wanted her. It was her fault.

A lone tear traced down her cheek, and just like that, her floodgates opened. So many tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down her face. Her throat burned forming a silent scream. Was this was crying felt like? A part of her dying inside, yet relief.

Nancy cried like there was too much raw pain inside her to be contained. She cried like her spirit needed to break loose from her skin, desperate to release an elemental rage on the world. The soothing words of Frank as he held her and attempted to calm the distraught young detective made no difference at all. Nancy was beyond all reason, beyond all-natural methods of calming.

When she cried there was rawness to it like the pain was still an open wound. She would clasp onto something for support, in this case, it was the front of Frank's polo shirt, and then her whole body would shake. The sobs were stifled at first as she attempted to hide her grief, then overcome by the wave of her emotions she would break down entirely, all his defenses washed away in those salty tears. When she, at last, turned her face to Frank, she was a picture of grief, loss, and devastation. It was the face of one who had suffered before and didn't know if she could do it again. Then, just when Frank thought the breakthrough would come and she would trust him with her vulnerability; the shutters would come down, her emotion walled off behind a mask of coping. She would just wear it until everything was right again, she didn't know another way.

Frank didn't know what to do to help Nancy. He'd never seen her lose control quite like this before, and he felt as though he were watching without being invited to comfort her, invading on something private, and he didn't like this.

"All of you need to get out _now_," commanded Lisa, who had injected Nancy with a sedative, and could only watch, her heartstrings tugged gently at watching the young detective cry. "She's emotionally compromised, you can visit her later when she's rested and in a better state!" The overworked nurse practically had to shout to make herself heard over the young woman's heart-wrenching screams. The nurse breathed a sigh of relief and brushed her bangs away from her forehead as she watched the strength leave the redhead and the young woman slowly drift into unconsciousness, reaching for the blackness of dreamless sleep, diving for it when it came.

The nurse didn't speak a word to Officer Perry, Frank or Joe as she ushered them outside Miss Drew's hospital room, closing the door firmly behind her, her footsteps clacking down the tile floor as she left to go make her rounds.

"What can we do?" asked Joe immediately, noticing the dark look in Frank's eyes, making a mental note to address it in a second, after they finished talking with the police officer.

"Just be there for her. If there is a serial killer on the loose, we don't want people wandering out alone. We'll issue citywide broadcast-advising folks to stay in their homes and don't go out at night until this bastard is caught. He killed over a dozen people with his bombs, injuring countless others. If you ask me, Miss Drew was lucky to make it out alive. Chief McGinnis knows she'll want to do this on her own, seeing as how she now has a personal connection to this case, and in the letter, it sounded like this perp knows her. Given that little information, he's assigned me to be her partner going forward," sighed Luke, squishing his police hat in his hands until it was a mere mess of wrinkles. The young lieutenant seemed to suffer from a strange bout of anxiety, but Frank and Joe would worry about that later. "Stay close, keep safe."

The Hardy brothers gave curt nods, watching as the young police officer disappeared around the corridor to go get himself something to eat.

Frank watched Officer Perry leave with a strange sensation bubbling in his stomach. Something was off about this whole thing, he just knew it. Someone bombed the Harvest Festival, and all for what? Just to get to Nan?

He could feel his younger brother's piercing stare burning a hole in the back of his skull as he turned to face Joe Hardy, who was fixing his older brother with an uncharacteristically somber glare, not like him. "What?" he asked.

"I know that look," sighed Joe exasperatedly, running a hand through his blond hair, sounding exhausted. "You have to tell her."

Frank felt his breath catch in his throat as he drew in a sharp breath that pained his lungs. "I—I can't," he said, his voice terse as he turned away sharply, refusing to look his brother in the eye.

"You ought to," retorted Joe hotly, feeling his temper swell to the surface as he regarded his older brother. "I know what it's like to jones after a girl, Frank, and you have to tell Nan before it's too late. She…" he hesitated, wondering if Frank knew the news yet. "You know Ned was planning to ask her to marry him, don't you?" he said, at last, his words seeming to linger unpleasantly in the air.

If the tension in the hallway would have been color, the air around the brothers would have been scarlet red as Frank took in this news. When Frank finally found his voice at last, Joe had to crane forward and strain to hear him. "No," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I didn't."

"I don't think she got to give him an answer before the explosion happened, so there's still time. You should tell her, Frank," Joe repeated harshly, his tone colder than he would have liked, but his brother needed to hear this. "If you don't tell her before it's too late, you'll never know how she feels, and well…she might be someone else's by the time you finally get around to admitting your feelings to Nancy, Frank."

His piece said, Joe left, leaving Frank alone standing outside Nancy's room, and made to go follow Officer Perry in search of food and to give Bess and George a call to let them know an update. They'd be dropping by later when Nancy was awake. Frank was barely aware of his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, his teeth ground tightly together as his jaw locked and he stood, rooted to his spot and unable to move.

For years, Nancy had misinterpreted his motives and his actions, she was his best friend, at times his hero, and he had hoped one day for more, to make her his.

Her relationship with Ned had been rocky at times, and Frank had been there in so many ways that Ned simply hadn't. They would fight, and Frank would be there for Nancy, sympathetic to her plight. He pretended like he would be over it when Nancy and Ned would make up and get back together, but he never was. It takes time to heal, and Nancy could not help him with that. Trouble was, all he had was Nancy. Joe could never understand how he felt for her.

Frank wasn't even aware he was speaking to Nancy as he sat outside her door, refusing to budge. She needed him now more than ever.

"I believe that each of us deserves a chance at love. And I know it sounds silly that there's someone out there for everyone but I believe in love. Now I know some say there's no such thing as true love that it all ends in heartbreak and pain but I think that's the beauty of it. To have something so perfect for such a short while, and then for it to disappear into nothing. It's an endless loop, never-ending, always on the move. You never know where it will take you. That's the thing about love, it's so beautiful and mysterious and magical. I believe we all deserve a chance at love because we all deserve something magical. And for me, my magic started at a simple coffee shop down the road from the school, the day I met you, Nan. Don't you remember?"

He remembered it like it was just yesterday…

* * *

A/N: I don't usually write these notes like this, but oooh cliffhanger! For those that are following this, and have questions, I promise I'll answer them in due time! It's going to be a bit of a slow burn, but I'm a diehard Ned/Nancy shipper, though I have a huge soft spot for Frank, and have plenty in store for the characters and some much-needed drama lol. I appreciate your patience going forward and all I can say is…please don't hate me!


	4. Chapter 4: Girl in the Cafe

Frank had retreated back inside Nancy's hospital room, holding her hand while she slept, watching her chest slowly rise and fall, his memories pulling at him until he could no longer block them out…

* * *

The tiny café huddled despondent among the huge city buildings. Washed out under the overcast sky, it hunched in itself, fighting against the drizzle. Hundreds of people rushed by it, outside on the crowded street. The half a dozen customers glanced up as the door swung open, heralded by a blast of cold wind. Unlike the outside, the interior of the café was warm and cheery, with bright lights and colorful walls. The customers returned to their conversations as the door swung closed behind the new entrant and the cold breeze was forgotten. It's early and the machines are yet to warm, and Frank Hardy still had time before his first class started on campus at eight, so Frank pondered this chance to rest a moment longer, to drink in the aroma of this place. The barista has tired eyes, yet there is that glimmer, a give away of her good heart. She's one of those surviving sparks, one of the ones who held on to who they really are.

He asked for his Danish to be warmed, apologizing amid his own tired smile. "Sorry, I'm just feeling like being a bit of a fuss pot today."

Frank saw the barista's spark glow a little brighter, her face more relaxed, a smidge more joy in her eyes. "That's alright, dear, you be a fuss pot."

He laughed unexpectedly, and he knew that she was feeling that tiny bit better too, "Thanks for indulging my fuss-pot-ism. I needed that." Coffee and warm Danish in hand, he turned to leave and was instantly rendered speechless as he gaped at the woman who'd just entered the campus coffee shop. Her emotions were not easily hidden on her innocent face. Her pain was evident in the crease of her lovely brow and the down-curve of her full lips. But her eyes, her eyes showed her soul. They were a deep pool of restless blue, an ocean of hopeless blue grief.

As Frank looked into her eyes he knew, all the beauty of the universe could not even hope to compete with this simple thing: passion. Passion turned her eyes into orbs of the brightest fire, and in them he read clearly that she would fight to the very last tear for her life. She would not let the world break her. Sure she could cry, but she would never let them take her true self from her. She clung to it with passion. Passion that made her beautiful. This girl, whoever she was, with the bewitching auburn red hair that fell in graceful layers to her shoulders, had a kind of understated beauty; perhaps it was because she was so disarmingly unaware of her prettiness. Her pale skin was completely flawless. Frank doubted she used facemasks or expensive products. That really wasn't her method. No, this girl, whoever she was, was special. She was all about simplicity, making things easy, helping those around her to relax and be happy with what they have. Perhaps that is why her skin glowed so, it was her inner beauty that lit her eyes and softened her features. When she smiled and laughed you couldn't help but smile along too, even if it was just on the inside. To be in her company was to feel that you too were someone, that you had been warmed in summer rays regardless of the season.

She flashed a charming smile his way as she stood in line waiting for her own coffee order, a donut in her hand, her simple brown maxi dress seeming to flow with her movements. The redhead smiled at him shyly again before vacating the coffee shop, leaving Frank speechless. _Go after her, you idiot!_ His voice was practically screaming at him to follow her.

Frank's eyes drifted to the counter and landed on something she'd forgotten. He could tell just by judging the small compact bi-fold burgundy wallet that this was a woman who didn't need much out of life. He could tell with a carefully trained eye that she was a simple woman. Probably the only thing that existed in her wallet was her driver's license, maybe a student ID card, no more than two credit cards, and cash. Not bothering to open it so he could learn her name the proper way, Frank stifled his grin as he grabbed her wallet and followed after the beautiful girl, tapping her gently on the shoulder when he got close enough so as to not startle her.

"You uh…" For a moment, his words left him again. He was fully aware he was staring and she quirked her brow at him, waiting for him to speak to her again, but he couldn't help it. He'd never seen eyes like hers before. Her eyes were fire in water, if you can imagine such a thing. They were passion in ice. So even on their first meeting Frank knew, she'd be a friend for life, never dominating nor submitting, but a companion who walks freely alongside, never taking advantage of him.

At last, he found his voice again. "You forgot your wallet, ma'am," he grinned sheepishly, holding out her wallet for her to take.

As she shyly accepted it, mumbling her thanks, their fingers briefly touched. "Yeah, well I just sort of come here to enjoy the two hour line for this place's coffee." Her smile was dazzlingly white and Frank found he was staring at her again. The way her lips lifted upward. The way her one dimple crinkles. The way her teeth are perfectly aligned. The warm glow her happiness gives. Her smile is a ray of sunshine, and he was sunburn He cringed, hoping he wasn't making a fool of himself in front of this beautiful woman. His gaze briefly wandered to the back of her blue Honda fit, and landed on the University's parking permit.

_Good a time as any to make conversation_. He coughed once and cleared his throat. "The school of criminology. Do you work there?"

The beautiful redhead shook her head. "No, I'm a student," she said softly, her voice flowing around them like a soft summer breeze. The girl took a second to put her phone back into her purse and offered him a kind smile. "Uh, I'm Nancy," she volunteered, her tone slightly teasing. "Nancy Drew."

_Beautiful_, he thought, but dared not speak it. "Sorry," he laughed. "I'm Frank. Frank Hardy."

"Well, thank you for this, _Frank_," she teased, turning away to walk away and leave him alone again. Frank couldn't let that happen.

"Wait!" he called out, having to jog slightly to catch up to her after a moment's indecisiveness. "I uh…think we owe it to ourselves to get lunch later, after class."

Frank bit his lip and drew in a breath. He wasn't even aware he was holding his breath until he let it out. He watched, amazed, as her blue eyes seemed to spark a new intensity and she grinned, making him feel a little dizzy.

"Okay," she said, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She erupted into a wide grin as she shifted her purse to her other arm.

"Okay?" he asked, repeating her answer, as though he hadn't heard Nancy correctly.

Nancy Drew nodded shyly, tossing her red hair back over her shoulders. "Noon?" she asked quizzically, taking careful note of the handsome dark-haired man's demeanor.

Frank grinned at Nancy, feeling a huge burden lift from his shoulders the longer he spent around her. "Noon," he agreed. "Mimi's?" he asked, glancing sideways at the café at which they had just met. "Is that ok?"

"Mimi's it is," she said, her tone light and teasing as she waved, sauntering off to her first class in a way that gave her the appearance almost as if she were gliding, looking effortlessly beautiful while doing so.

* * *

Frank had been so lost in constructing scenarios for the lunch date ahead that he was surprised to see how far he'd come. Already the cafe is in sight. There's nothing slick about it, no fancy fonts or white etching upon the glass. You could pick the whole thing up and send it back thirty years and it wouldn't look out of place. There aren't any tables with fancy umbrellas, just the uneven pavement baring the cracks of age.

Despite the early lunch hour, Frank could still hear music from inside, the kind of rolling Jazz Louis always plays a little too loud for the neighbors liking. But Frank Hardy was not here to sit at the bar and chat with him until the wee hours; he was here to see Nancy. She'll already be in there looking like she's been stood up, but she knew he would be late since his class ran behind a few minutes, so she will wait. The toasted sandwiches were made in the iron frying pan, the wholegrain bread becoming a golden brown. The aroma would make its way through the restaurant, announcing that lunch was ready. Warm bread, warm chatter and warm music playing; the cooler seasons never felt so cozy. Suddenly, all his preparations flee his mind like scared children; his brain feels full of static like an old television set that's lost the signal. He stopped. Part of him is screaming to turn around, but Frank knew his future is in there waiting for him to have lunch with her...

* * *

Frank was jolted out of his first meeting with Nancy as her other best friends and cousins, Bess Marvin and George Fayne, entered Nancy's hospital room, looking frantic and beside themselves, their arms laden with gifts. Bess was carrying a small stuffed animal she'd bought in the hospital gift shop and a couple bars of Koko Kringles, Nancy's favorite chocolate. George was carrying her iPod for music and a couple of DVD's for entertainment purposes and some bottles of water in case she was thirsty when she awoke again. He sighed; recognizing his moment alone with Nancy for now was up. "It's good of you to come," he said, his voice sounding tired. "She's still sleeping, so try not to wake her, you two. Keep quiet. That means _you_, Bess," he replied, seeing Bess open her mouth to speak.

"Oh my God," moaned Bess, practically near tears at seeing Nancy in the hospital bed.

"Is she okay?" asked George, the more rational of the two, her gaze unabashed and unwavering, fixed on Frank. "We saw it on the news, we—we didn't want to believe it!"

Bess Marvin took the first step forward, stepping from the door way and out into the light of the hospital room, that girl with the blond hair, a thousand shades of gold that made new mosaics each moment in the warm summer air. Frank guessed from afar you could say her soft curls were the color of rich cream, but up close it was a chorus of hues. Bess was a woman who loved fashion, her curves in all the right places and a face that quite literally sometimes stopped men dead in their tracks. She frequently chastised Nancy for not making more of an effort in her appearance and was met with scorn, much to her disdain. Nancy, to her, was a lost cause.

George Fayne was the opposite of Bess in every possible way, her dark brown hair the color of an espresso coffee was cropped short in a stylish pixie, flattering to her long face and athletic build. She favored practical clothing and technology over shoes and makeup, something Bess hated, but Bess had long since given up trying to change her cousin's ways, also deeming her a lost cause.

"And Ned, oh, Ned!" wailed Bess, struggling to stay quiet under the harsh look her cousin gave her. "Who on earth could have taken him? What if—what if whoever has him kills him?"

"They won't," spoke up Frank harshly, the anger seeping into his normally kind voice. "I'm not going to let that happen. And Officer Perry will be working closely with Nan once she's released from here to find out more."

"I wonder what her answer was," piped up Bess and immediately fell silent at the ice-cold stare Frank gave her. "Oops," she mumbled. Bess squirmed uncomfortably in her seat and fidgeted with the white stuffed teddy bear she'd bought for Nancy as a get-well gift.

"You _knew_?" demanded Frank angrily, closing his eyes and taking deep slow breaths, willing his temper to remain in check. "You both knew Ned was going to ask Nancy to marry him, and you kept this from me. Why?" It took all of his resolve not to shout at the pair of them. "I'd have never believed this of you both! We're supposed to be friends! We don't keep secrets from each other! Not like this!"

George's gaze flitted nervously from Nancy's still sleeping form back to Frank. She stirred uneasily in her sleep, but didn't wake. "Ned asked us not to say anything until she had given her answer," she said, sounding apologetic. "Because he knew you'd react…like this," she said, almost sounding ashamed. "Frank, you're a fool. We can all see it, at least Bess and I can. I think Ned suspects, but he's too much of a gentleman to ever confront you about it. Why haven't you told her the truth?"

Frank felt his face flush red with embarrassment and anger. "Because…it would change everything," he sighed, feeling the worst of his temper deflate like a used balloon. "I don't want to risk what she and I have by confessing my feelings. What if—what if she says no, and then what? Our friendship is down the toilet and it's never the same after." His words were bitter and hard, angry.

Bess and George shared a sympathetic glance before turning back to Frank. "You should tell her regardless, Frank," urged Bess quietly.

"I'll…I'll think about it," he muttered through gritted teeth, turning away sharply from the cousins so they wouldn't se the heartbreak in his eyes. He was running out of time, and he couldn't think about his own feelings right now. Not when Nancy needed him the most, and Ned's life was in danger. "First, though, we have to get Ned back alive and unharmed."

The cousins nodded, knowing he needed some space. The pair reached out and squeezed Nancy's uninjured hand gently, Bess reaching over to brush a strand of red hair out of Nancy's eyes. "We'll see you soon, okay?" she whispered, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to her best friend's forehead. "Promise."

Bess and George gave a curt nod to Frank, who returned the gesture, having eyes only for Nancy as he held her hand, never once leaving her bedside. "Nance," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke. "I don't know if you can hear me, but if you can…I can't stop loving you, Nan. Every single time, whether you know it or not, you steal away another part of me, and you make it impossible for me to put myself back together. And yet, I always come back to you. Perhaps I hope you return what you've stolen, though you never do. You don't know what you do to me, but I wish you did. You don't mind my company, but I know that you could never, would never return the love I have for you, so I couldn't tell you…"


	5. Chapter 5: A Little Surprise

"I love you", Nancy blurted as she woke with a start, still in her cold hospital room, alone and empty. She found her bed to be cold and lonely. "Ned." She missed Ned's muscular arm that she dreamed was wrapped around her as much as she missed the smell of him. How much she missed him. He should be here with her.

Her room was filled with flowers, but their scent had turned to nothing since she saw him last at the Harvest Festival before the explosion. The petals of the flowers were an array of enchanting colors; teal, emerald, ruby, amethyst, and pearl, but to her they were only shades of grey. She missed him when he was gone, but it was only now that his very life was threatened at the hands of a serial killer who called himself the Watcher did Nancy realize how much Ned meant to her, and how she regretted not getting to give him her answer before he'd been taken.

_Yes_. It would always be yes. Not seeing him for a year while he'd been away on a foreign business trip, hoping to recruit players for his college team that he now coached had been tough enough, but seeing him again brought back those feelings she had hidden deep in herself. Love, lust, and passion. No man had been the object of her desire in the last year, save for Ned. She had put love from her mind discarding it as though it was nothing more than a pair of shoes that she had outgrown, but now she walked barefoot, dressing quickly and gathering her things.

The sooner she got out of here, the sooner she could go back to the police department and start hunting for answers. Nancy checked out of the hospital quickly and allowed Officer Perry to ride in the passenger seat of the rental car she'd rented, given that her blue Honda Fit was still in the shop undergoing mandatory maintenance after her last case.

"You okay, Nance?" asked Luke worriedly, every once in a while shooting her a nervous glance, as though regretting his decision to let her drive. "You uh…might want to slow down. You don't want me to have to stop you and give you a ticket," he joked weakly, hoping his lame attempt at humor would calm her down.

"Luke, _please_," she pleaded desperately, speeding a little through the side streets, the quickest shortcut to the River Heights Police Department was to take 10th and Main Street. "Save it. Not now," she begged. "I—later, okay? Ned's been taken, Luke. I—I have to get him back. Whoever has him knows me, and I need to find out who it is before he gets hurt!"

The rookie lieutenant nodded, falling silent at the urgency in the young detective's voice. He noticed with some affection that Nancy had put the small stuffed cow she'd won at the Harvest Festival on her dashboard, every once in a while, she would shoot it a desperate, longing glance. He knew all too well what was happening. It was the last remnant she had of Ned Nickerson prior to his disappearance, and she would cling to it as a safety vessel of sorts.

She pulled into the police department with a screech of roaring tires, watching out of the corner of her eyes as Luke visibly cringed as she swerved expertly into a parking spot. "_Jesus_, Nancy, who taught you how to drive?" managed Officer Perry weakly; his knuckles white as he gripped the door handle tight.

The young detective managed a wry smile. "Dad," she answered simply, affection and love laced in her voice as she drifted off for a moment, seemingly lost in her thoughts. She snapped herself out of it, whatever it was, and grabbed her purse, tossing her red hair over her shoulders, the trademark Nancy Drew signal she was upset and walked towards the River Heights PD without another word to Luke as she walked, silently fuming.

Luke watched the amateur detective walk, her simple dress swishing and flowing with her movements. As he followed close behind to catch up, he was aware he was feeling slightly…well, _aroused,_ as she did so. Nancy Drew was different, not like the other women in River Heights, and he had a feeling she knew it, and either chose not to acknowledge it or just flat out didn't care, choosing to focus on other things, like helping solve crimes.

Nancy, all the while, had barely managed to make it through the front door and towards the receptionist desk where she worked when she halted, frozen in her tracks. Not only had her desk been decorated and showered with get well and sympathy gifts, well, it was more like a cubicle made out of burlap than an actual desk, but Chief McGinnis stood next to her desk, a grim expression on his weathered face. Standing next to him was her father, Carson. Nancy felt a surge of affection swell in her heart for the lawyer as her gaze met his.

"Nancy!" murmured Carson, not hesitating to envelop his daughter in a tight hug, being careful to be mindful of her injuries. "I got home as soon as I could when I heard. My plane was delayed, and I wanted so badly to be with you last night, but I'm here now."

"It's all right, Dad," she whispered, feeling tears begin to well in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over if she couldn't get a grip on herself. She swallowed back the urge and relinquished her grip on her father, forcing a smile on her face even though all she wanted to do was sit in a corner and weep.

Ned was being held hostage, because of her.

Her father held his daughter at arm's length, carefully looking her up and down, scrutinizing his daughter's appearance, looking for any signs of trouble. None that he could see. No one feature made Carson Drew so handsome, though his eyes came close. People often spoke of the color of eyes, as if that were of importance, yet his would be beautiful in any shade. From them came intensity, honesty, and gentleness. Perhaps this is what was meant by a gentleman, not one of weakness or trite politeness, but one of a great and noble spirit. What he was, what was beautiful about Carson Drew, came from deep within. Women his age in town would have happily dropped everything to go on a date with the distinguished lawyer, claiming his strong features and glasses made him a dead wringer for Gregory Peck in _To Kill a Mockingbird_, but he always politely declined, claiming his deceased wife, Kate, was the only love in his life besides Nancy and their housekeeper, Hannah, that he would need. As each year passes, the lines will deepen on Carson's face, and he will be more handsome still as if his very soul shone through his skin.

"There was a message on your phone this morning," began Chief McGinnis, looking thoroughly disgruntled and cross as he sipped on his first of his usual four cups of pure black coffee in the mornings, no sweetener.

Nancy's interest was piqued. "From who?"

"Take a guess," muttered her father darkly, rather sardonically. Nancy would have commented, but she was already too emotionally invested in this case as it was.

Before she could even check the phone by her computer at her station, her cell phone pinged, demanding she answer. The display screen showed it was a blocked number.

_"__Should I?"_ she mouthed silently. The others nodded their agreement, Chief McGinnis giving thumbs-up, and silently communicating to Nancy they were tracing the call if she answered. She understood the chief. "I'll keep him talking," she whispered, pressing the green Accept button on her cell phone. "Hello?"

Nancy was greeted on the other end by a heavy burst of static before a distorted, disguised voice answered, rendering her blood cold. "Hello, Nancy," the voice replied calmly. "I take it you got my note, then, darling?"

The detective bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood. "Listen, pal," she shouted, fully aware she was letting her emotions get the better of her. "I don't know who you think you are, but you're messing with the wrong girl, you hear me?" she bellowed, cringing as the man on the other end of the line laughed. "Whatever grudge you have is against me. Take me, let Ned go." She was begging now. Normally, Nancy prided herself on the ability to remain calm and collected in high-pressure situations, such as now, but at the moment, it just wasn't possible for her. The man had Ned.

The caller on the other end laughed, his (or hers!) laughter distorted and cruel, sending an involuntary tremor down Nancy's spine. "I don't think so, my dear," the voice crooned. A beat. "You'll find a wrapped box on your desk, a—a gift for you, you might say," the voice instructed. "I want you to open it." Almost as an afterthought, the voice couldn't resist adding, "Oh, and tell Chief McGinnis and your father who are standing next to you, they won't be able to trace the location of this call," the voice teased mockingly, chilling Nancy's blood. She could practically feel the color draining from her face as it spoke the words.

Nancy's eyes were drawn to a small wrapped box with white wrapping paper, adorned with a giant red bow. _A calling card?_ She mused, reaching for the box with trembling fingers. It took her several minutes fumbling with the ribbon on the box, undoing it and with a heavy heart, opening the box, letting out a startled cry and practically throwing the box across the room. She felt her tears come, and she didn't bother stopping them this time.

The simple yellow gold ring Ned had proposed to her with sat in its box, bloodied. Next to the box was a severed finger. "It's not Ned's, oh please, don't let it be Ned's. God, what have I done to you, Ned? I—I'm going to save you," she whispered, horrified, instinctively reaching for the phone.

"I thought that might get your attention, lovely," snarled the distorted voice, sounding angry with her now. "I've been studying you for quite some time now, Miss Drew. You might even say I'm a fan of yours. You disobey my orders; your boyfriend loses another finger. You're going to do as I tell you when I tell you. Tell your friends at the police department they won't get lucky in tracing this call, so don't bother. I'll be in touch with further instructions, Miss Drew, don't worry."

Chief McGinnis' look of outrage was almost too much for Nancy to handle as the caller promptly hung up, ending the call. She turned away, her father hovering over her shoulder.

"It's not Ned's finger," she whisper-hissed angrily, whirling around to face Carson, whose face was white with shock. He looked like he was about to be sick. "It—it can't be, it just can't. I—is there any way the lab can run DNA tests on it, find out…who it belongs to?" she choked, not wanting to think who else the serial killer dubbing himself The Watcher had harmed. She didn't like to think about it. "_Well_?"

Officer Luke Perry was the first to recover, his face ashen and clammy, beaded with sweat. "We'll get this son of a bi—this _man_," he corrected quickly, seeming to wilt and wither under the stern look the police chief shot him. "I'll get the…phalange down to the lab right away, Miss Drew. We'll have answers soon."

"Today. I can't waste any more time, Luke. Please. Today, on my desk by five o' clock sharp, sir. I'm begging you," she commanded, a harsh bark to her voice that she usually only reserved for people like Deidre or Lana.

Nancy wasted no time in firing up the computer and beginning a search in one of the police department's databases. She resisted the urge to kick the modem, willing it silently to go faster. "You people should really upgrade your machines when the budget gets renewed," she muttered darkly. "I can't wait!"

Almost as an afterthought, she shouted to Luke before he could disappear down the hall towards the labs in the basement. "Luke!"

The young rookie turned, shooting her a charming smile. "Yes, ma'am?" he asked politely. _Ever the gentleman_, Nancy thought.

"Could you have the lab clean and disinfect the ring for me, please? After they check it for fingerprints, of course. I—I want to wear it," she confessed, a light blush speckling across her cheeks as the lieutenant caught on to her request.

He gave a swift nod and a soft smile. "Of course," he responded courteously, and even from this distance, Nancy could have sworn that she had seen the briefest flickers of jealousy pass through Luke's green eyes, but just as quickly as it had come, it was gone.

Nancy suppressed a shudder, thinking about how she had not wanted to start her day back to work dealing with a kidnapping and a severed finger. She clicked her computer's mouse irritably, searching the city's cameras surrounding the Harvest Festival for anything useful that might aid her in her search.

"Anything I can do for you, sweetheart?" offered Carson lowly, stooping down to give his daughter a kiss on the cheek. "I have a couple of trials to prepare for today, but _nothing_ is more important than you, Nance," he said solemnly. "Just say the word and I'm here."

Nancy shook her head. "No, Dad. You go on," she encouraged, not unkindly, returning her father's kiss by reaching up and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "I've got my phone with me, I'll call you if I find out anything."

Her father nodded gravely as he gathered his briefcase, preparing to leave. He paused and turned back around before heading out the doorway. "Nance, I know I can't talk you down from this, though I desperately wish that I could, but I know how much Ned means to you," he said, a light igniting in his eyes. He chuckled quietly. "He was quite a nervous wreck when he came to me a few days ago, you know when he asked me for permission."

Nancy allowed herself to smile sadly. "I imagine!" she said, a light laugh escaping her lips in spite of the feeling of dread she was experiencing. "I'm going to get him back, Dad. And…" Her voice trailed off as it cracked and wavered. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat as she continued. "When I see him again, because I will see him again, I'm going to tell him yes, Dad," she replied fiercely.

Carson nodded, smiling. "I figured as much. Ned Nickerson is a lucky man to have you, Nancy. I know he knows that, but when we find him, be sure to tell him how much he means to you. Your wedding will be beautiful, Nan," he said softly, turning to go. "Be safe."

"Always," she responded warmly, watching her father exit the police station with a feeling she couldn't quite describe. Nancy went back to checking cams, looking for something—anything—that might help her look for Ned. The dread crept over Nancy like an icy chill, numbing her brain. In this frozen state, the detective's mind offers her only one thought. It is today. There is no avoiding it. She was like a cow being herded into a truck for the slaughterhouse, only the cow doesn't know where it's going and Nancy did. Dread crept down her spine like a careful spider leaving a trail of silk. Nancy felt her feet on her skin, descending until Nancy was almost frozen to the spot, stuck in her desk chair and unable to move. Her stomach was full of lead; her feet are set in concrete; her mind is worryingly empty. All she can do is pray things slip into place when she took the hot seat, when finding the answers matters.

"I'm going to get you back, Ned," she whispered. "You'll see. Just hang in there…"


	6. Chapter 6: Botched Escape

Surrounded by four white walls, there was nothing else Ned could do except but stare at them. To look at the paint that had started to chip off as time passed, or gouged by other prisoners - anything to pass time, slowly going mad, theorizing absurd meanings from the wall's blank stare. Tonight, he won't sleep again. He's losing track of the days since he stupidly allowed himself to be caught. All he wanted was to get Nancy to safety, and because of his valiant efforts, he paid the price. It's so hard, imagining what that freak that kidnapped him will do to Nancy if she refuses to cooperate. He didn't want to think of it. He couldn't, and yet, the images stayed. And Ned knows his girlfriend, perhaps better than anyone else he knew. She won't cooperate with this person's demands, not by a long shot. And it hurts him like no other thing in the world. More than when his captor goes after him during one of his fits of rage.

The monster Ned called demon since he had yet to learn the man's name, or what he looked like, the one who dared to call himself Watcher and stalk not only Nancy, but her family and friends as well, was blaming Nancy for everything wrong in his life, and if Nancy weren't careful, she would have scars, both physical and emotional. _I can't take this anymore_, he thought desperately. Ned bit his lips so hard they started to bleed, trying to block out the man's distorted shouts, but nothing helped. The fear paralyzed him. He hated himself for not being strong enough to stop him. _But what can I do? _Nothing will change if Nancy didn't fight this. And he couldn't escape. Because the thought of leaving her alone with this monster sickened him to the point of almost puking. So he guessed all he could do was spend another sleepless night. The prison cell was a hollow cube of concrete, one way in, no windows. In there you could have no idea how much time had passed or even if it was night or day. It was totally disorientating by design. Given enough time a person could forget his or her own name in there. The isolation was total and the stimulation was zero, Ned had noticed.

No sound, no light, no furniture or cloth of any kind. It was all a prisoner could do to feel the cool walls, but even they were smooth, flawless. Enough to drive a man insane. He didn't know how long he had until the Watcher came back, but until then, he wanted to let his mind drift to his happy place. He wanted to think of thoughts of _her_. Nancy. Hopefully, if he got out of this alive, his future wife. To Ned, Nancy was perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. A beautiful woman feels beautiful within, from the love she gives to her ideas and the creative ways she expresses her soul. Nancy was one who wrapped her arms around the soul of the world, of all who love her and those who need to love. That, to Ned, was beauty and if the others can see that too, they would be smarter and wiser than most. Just like Ned was lucky. She was the kind of girl that women loved to hate. She was an adult at age twenty-six, but so young that she still had the exuberance of youth. She had that movie star look, not overly tall and willowy, but more like an action star. Her muscle definition was perfect and she walked with the confidence of someone a decade older. She wasn't just flawless in her bone structure, her skin was like silk over glass and she radiated an intelligent beauty. Nancy Drew could have graced any billboard or magazine cover, but she was better than those two-dimensional photo shopped models. Somehow her imperfections made her perfect. There was a shyness to her, hesitation in her body movements and softness in her voice.

Whenever she would enter a room, Ned's whole world would slow down, until it was just the two of them to wander the earth together. He allowed himself to smile as he remembered their first meeting in the college's law library. This was the girl, he knew as he had looked at her mulling over the books in the crime section as she looked for a particular book on the psychology behind Ted Bundy, that this girl was going to forever change the way he viewed the world, would change Ned forever.

Ned could feel the cuffs digging into his wrists and rope around his ankles; his left cheek lay firmly in the muddy dust that coated the cold concrete floor. From a high window came rectangle of daylight, sending white beams to illuminate the grime and show the dust that swirled in the air. If he could reach it, he could find out where he was. Even if he couldn't tell the exact location, even just knowing if he was still in River Heights would be something. He strained his ears for sounds, for cars or for ships. Were there gulls or garden birds? Was this industrial or residential? "Where the hell am I?" he moaned. Again he focused on the window, the frame was new but it wasn't the sort you could open. There must be ventilation shafts. He knew how to get his hands free; he just didn't relish doing it. Enough pressure in the right spot would break his thumb, then it would be time to check out, get out of here, and find Nancy. Ned could never recall how long the beating had gone on for, when the Watcher had moved him to this new location, only the final kick and the sound of the iron bar falling to the concrete. His face wasn't too bad, just a cut above his eyebrow, the scarlet blood flowing into his eyes. It was his body that was damaged almost beyond the point at which recovery was possible. Blooming purple patches formed on his abdomen, not suggesting good things for Ned Nickerson. "Have to get out," he muttered weakly through gritted teeth, sweat beading on his brow. "Have to…see Nancy…"

Ned stifled a startled cry of surprises as a gentle nudge on his cell door creaked open, swinging widely, clanging against the wall louder than he liked. He froze, waiting. Silence. Silence gnawed at Ned's insides. Silence hung in the air like the suspended moment before a falling glass shatters on the ground. The silence was like a gaping void, needing to be filled with sounds, words, anything. The silence was poisonous in its nothingness, cruelly underscoring how vapid their conversation had become. The silence was eerily unnatural, like a dawn devoid of birds. Silence clung to him like a poisonous cloud that at any moment could choke the life from him. Silence seeped into his every pore, like a poison slowly paralyzing him from either speech or movement. _GO_, his voice urged him.

Ned bolted into a run, his feet kissing the ground. Perhaps a little while ago, he would have balked at the idea of running so far and fast, now he relished the fact of running to his freedom, and to Nancy. For a moment, Ned wondered of the perspective of the chaser, if they can fathom the fear of the chased. He felt the screaming of his lungs and the will of his muscles to go far beyond what exercise could ever demand. This is the body and brain if full survival mode and it is nothing but pain. Ned kept running, but he knew his time was up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something sharp and long coming towards him. He tried to jump out of the way, but it was too late. Ned screamed, giving away his position but the pain is unbearable. He collapsed to the ground, fire in his leg and a bullet just barely grazed his ear, a warning shot. As he lay there, Ned saw an image of Nancy in a wedding dress, waiting for him. But before he can open his mouth to call out to her, his pain overtakes him and he dives for the blackness, not aware of the man called The Watcher shouting obscenities into his ear. His last thoughts before he faded were of Nancy, and how he hoped he would see her again. He never got to tell her he loved her one last time, or tell her how beautiful she looked.


	7. Chapter 7: Close Call

Nancy was not even aware she had worked straight through her lunch hour until she felt the violent protesting of her stomach and realized how hungry she was. She had spent most of her morning trying to enhance the image she found from the security cameras the day of the Harvest Festival attack. So far, all she had been able to come up with was a closer look at the kidnapper's costume. All she could tell was the man's outfit was black and he wore some kind of grotesque mutated skeleton mask that covered all parts of the man's face, rendering it impossible to run a scan through the police department's databases. Whoever had done this knew what they were doing. _Wonderful_, she thought darkly, sipping her water. _Just what I need, someone I cannot identify_. _This could be anyone!_

Her stomach growled again as she squirmed in her seat, glancing at the clock, trying to silence the rumbling. Only two more minutes until her lunch break. She would have gone earlier at the chief's insistence, but she had to keep trying with this.

"Hey, Nan!" spoke up a man's voice behind her, startling her out of her dark thoughts. She was unable to suppress her immediate smile at seeing Frank hovering behind her chair, scrutinizing the blown up pixelated image of the skeleton man. "I take it this is our guy, Nance?" he asked somberly.

Nancy nodded, not needing to elaborate. "I was hoping to clean it up enough to get a clear enough image I could print it out, and run the image of his costume through a reverse image search, perhaps try to pinpoint where this person might have bought the costume. It's not much of a lead, but it's a start."

Frank smiled a warm, sympathetic smile. There was something akin to sadness in his brown eyes as he gave Nancy's shoulder a gentle reassuring squeeze. "We'll get him back, Nance. I promise. I don't know how, but we will. And Ned's a fighter; it's going to take more than some—some psycho to put…"

His voice trailed off at seeing how upset she was getting, and he cursed himself internally for putting his foot in his mouth. "I—I'm sorry, Nan. I didn't mean it," he apologized immediately. "You know that." Frank Hardy coughed once to clear his throat, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "Hey, uh, why I don't print this out for you? I know a couple of costume shops in town that open up around Halloween; we can start there and ask around. But only _after_ you join me for lunch, of course," he teased. Frank let out a breath and ran a hand through his dark hair, smoothing his jacket.

Nancy smiled, realizing how hungry she was. "I'd like that. More than you know, Frank," she sighed, tossing her hair back over her shoulder and reaching for her purse. "I'm starving. Where should we go?"

"I know a couple places," he said, feeling justified in keeping his hand on her shoulder perhaps a moment longer than was necessary, but Nancy needed him.

Frank took a second to print out the image for Nancy, and it was only when he returned that Nancy reached for her purse, tossing it over her shoulder and grabbing the rental car's car keys. "Let's go."

"I'm driving," she teased, watching as Frank let out a tiny groan, his brown eyes twinkling as he playfully socked her on the arm. "Oh, c'mon, it's not _that_ bad."

"I'm amazed, Nan, in all your years of driving the way you do that you've never once gotten a ticket," he grumbled, sliding into the passenger seat with some reluctance. "I'd still feel better if you let me drive."

"Not a chance. To be honest, I have a completely selfish reason for joining you for lunch. I don't want to be alone, and I don't think I can take much more of Officer Perry's horrible singing. He never stops," laughed Nancy, realizing she hadn't laughed since the Harvest Festival. Her gaze drifted downwards to the simple gold band she wore on her finger, and she knew that Frank had seen it. She could feel him staring, and wasn't sure what to do. "Frank, I…I know Ned might not have wanted to—to tell you, but you have to understand his reasons for why he—"

"No," answered Frank, his voice clipped and hard, suddenly tense. "It's fine, Nan, _please_ can we just enjoy lunch together? As friends? Please don't…"

Nancy knew that tone in the elder Hardy brother's voice. She knew all too well to let it go, and perhaps he would be in a better frame of mind to discuss it later. "All right," she agreed, turning the key in the ignition and beginning to drive. They drove in silence for a while, having decided on the Greasy Spoon Café, the place was known for their deli sandwiches and was getting rather famous for their burgers too.

"Any leads on who you think might have Ned?" asked Frank timidly after a long silence. "Any ideas, Nan?"

Nancy shook her head, brushing a lock of red hair out of her eyes. "No, and that's the problem. I've made several enemies over the years, and to my knowledge, it could be any one of them, Frank! But…I never thought anybody would stoop so low as to blow up a Harvest Festival, probably killing a few and injuring God knows how many others. The chief still will not release a body count or tell me anything else other than what he thinks I need to know, but McGinnis just doesn't understand. This bastard has Ned! I have to save him," she said, sounding weary.

Frank noticed how the rental car was picking up speed as they approached an intersection and frowned. "Better slow down, Nance. We don't want to fly into the café, do we?" he chuckled, but he was worried. "What's wrong, Nance? Your face is white!"

Nancy opened her mouth to reply but she no longer felt any pressure underneath her right foot. She could feel the car shudder slightly as it picked up speed. At least the intersection was clear for now, but it wouldn't be long now and the light would turn red, and if she couldn't stop it before then, they'd be in huge trouble. "Damn!" she swore under her breath. "Brace yourself, Frank, I think this car just lost its breaks!" she shouted over the sound of the tires fishtailing. She swerved to correct herself, hoping nobody was behind her. "Frank!" she yelled.

"Nan, look!" he shouted, his knuckles white as he clutched onto the door for support. "The turnaround! Bank into it, now!" he commanded, his eyes widening as his gaze landed on the grassy area on the right hand side of the road, watching as Nancy spun the wheel all the way over, the car letting out a squeal of protest as it jumped the embankment, Nancy's jaw rooted firmly shut as she held the wheel steady. She pulled the emergency break, letting out a shaky sigh of relief as the car screeched to a grinding halt.

The detective rested her forehead against the wheel, closing her eyes for a moment to regain her composure and fight back a sudden onset of nausea.

"You okay, Frank?" she asked weakly, peering over at Frank, who was white knuckling the dashboard, shaken up, but unharmed. He could only nod.

"I'm good," he managed to rasp out, smiling weakly. He stumbled out of the car to check the vehicle, and Nancy waited until her nausea passed and she was sure that her legs would support her before following suit. "This car is last year's model, Nance, there's no way it should have failed like this. We broke the axel when we spun out, but we're lucky we didn't hit anyone!" he shouted, his temper beginning to flare.

Nancy reached out a trembling hand and placed it on Frank's shoulder, hoping the simple gesture would be enough to calm him down. "I'm just glad we're okay," she managed to gasp out weakly. "And look!" she teased, pointing a shaking finger towards the Greasy Spoon Café. Our lunch awaits, we can call a garage from the restaurant while we eat."

Frank nodded his head in agreement. "I'll make the call, you go grab us a table," he said, his voice terse. Nancy shook her head, signaling silently she would wait for him. He sighed, exhausted and still shaken up. Irate, he pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and dialed the garage, speaking in low murmurs to whoever the mechanic was on the other line. He flipped the phone closed after the call ended and stuffed his phone back in his pants pocket. "They said we'll have to take an Uber to the rental car company to fill out an accident report, but someone's going to come along and pick up the car for us."

Nancy's attention was drawn to the tire marks left in the grass, and back up to the car's insignia. "I don't think that this little incident was an accident, Frank. This car is last year's model, all cars are supposed to undergo an inspection prior to being released to car rental companies, Frank. We both know this. I think this was possibly done deliberately. I would be willing to bet our skeleton man is behind this, I don't think he wants me on his trail, but he underestimated me when he kidnapped Ned, Frank. I _am_ going to get him back, and skeleton man is going to jail. After that, I'm not responsible for what happens to him once he's there," she growled darkly, pointing to her purse she wore on her shoulder, where she kept a printout paper copy of the photo of the costumed man from the Harvest Festival's security cameras the night of the attack. "I—I can't deal with this right now, though, Frank, so let's just sit and try to enjoy lunch. Something tells me after that near miss, we could both do to sit down, couldn't we?" she joked weakly, holding out her hand for Frank to take, waiting for him to get it.

Frank stood there for a moment, not responding and looking stunned, but after a moment's hesitation, accepted Nancy's hand and walked with her to the café. Frank couldn't help but notice Nancy's nails were cut down practically right to the skin, painted a light natural pink, almost a clear glaze. He couldn't imagine nails that short could be useful for anything. But for his favorite detective, to her, they were more hygienic that way. He knew her. She hated the idea of dirt trapped behind her nails. Given half a chance, she would describe to Frank the many types of bacteria that could lurk behind a dirty nail. Nancy Drew was a little bit of a hypochondriac, really, but at least he'd never get the stomach flu eating at her house. Not that he'd be going to her house soon.

The older Hardy brother sighed, feeling content but also what he was doing was morally wrong. He shouldn't be doing this, she was engaged!

_Is she, though?_ His voice taunted him. _You heard what Joe said. She never got to give him her answer_. _There's still time to make her see sense, make her change her mind and show Nancy she's meant to be with you!_ Angrily, he waved a hand away at his voices, the deepest desires of his heart, earning a confused look from Nancy that he tried to ignore.

The hostess of the cafe, a cute little brown-haired woman named Sophia, met them inside and guided them to a corner booth, away from the hustle and bustle of the lunch crowd. The clattering of plates and conversation made it difficult for the two of them to have a conversation, but they made it work. The two sipped on ice water, soothing to Nancy's throat, which still felt on fire, a side effect of her hospital stay. The nurse had informed her it would go away in a day or two, but for now, it was annoying.

"What can I get for you?" Their waitress asked, her head bent over a pad and pencil, not meeting their gaze and popping gum, her chewing incessant.

"I'll have a pastrami on rye with mustard and a Coke," said Frank politely, snapping his menu closed and handing it to the waitress, catching her eye and winking.

"For you?" the waitress asked, turning to Nancy.

Nancy had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes. "I'll have a cheeseburger with lettuce, tomato, mustard and ketchup, cooked medium-well, and a lemonade please. Thanks," she muttered, handing her menu off to the waitress, who promised them their food would be out shortly, leaving Frank and Nancy alone.

It did not escape the detective's attention that Frank was looking rather crestfallen every time his gaze drifted towards Nancy's left hand, lingering on the gold band. She frowned, furrowing her brow slightly. "Frank," she began, unsure of how to phrase what was on their mind. "I know how hard this must be for you, but I think you and I need to talk, don't we?"

However, Frank Hardy held up a hand to stop her. "Yes," he admitted, a pained look in his eyes. "But not now, Nance, please. Let's—let's just enjoy our time together, can't we? It's not often I get you all to myself over a lunch date, is it?" he asked, flashing her a brilliant white smile that caused her to drop it.

Nancy's smile faltered as she reached for her water, absent-mindedly swirling the straw in her cup, watching the condensation bead outside the glass.

Frank's cell phone chirped from his pocket. He fumbled trying to get at it for a moment, but after he checked the number. "It's the mechanics. Mind if I take it?" he asked, rising from his seat to leave.

Nancy shook her head, waving him away with a brush of her hand, shooting him a charming smile as she did so, chuckling lightly to herself as she watched Frank step outside the restaurant so he could hear the mechanic better. She watched him for a moment, studied his movements. The way he walked, looking effortlessly handsome, when he was around her, his confidence seemed taller, he seemed surer of himself. The effect was amazing, really.

Frank came in after a moment, his hair tousled from the wind, but it was a look that suited him. Nancy briefly found her mind drifting to thoughts of Frank in the early days of their friendship, how if Ned hadn't come along into her life when he did, then Frank would have been first. He would always be first. He sat down right as the waitress brought their food, carrying Nancy's plate with a pair of hot pads.

"Be careful, it's hot," she said, smiling wryly.

"I can see that," said Nancy, hoping her tone sounded polite, when all she really wanted to do was eat in peace and talk to Frank in private. "Thank you!" she called after the waitress, who gave a curt wave, signaling to the detective she had heard.

Nancy took the time to dunk a couple of fries in ketchup, the soft crunchy texture of the fries brushing past her lips, the salty flavor never leaving her mouth. The fries golden and crunchy, her cheeseburger cooked to perfection, Nancy hadn't realized how hungry she was until it was gone.

Frank paid their bill before Nancy could even offer to, shooting her a brief wink. "I don't think so, Nan," he teased, his smile sending Nancy's heart reeling. "You just got out of the hospital; this is my treat, Nance."

"Thanks Frank," she said warmly, instinctively reaching for his hand again when they stepped outside, a brief gust of cold wind greeting them.

"Shall we hit up the car rental company next?" he questioned, glancing sideways at Nancy as he hailed a nearby Uber driver, just finishing his lunch break. "And then check out those costume shops?"

Nancy nodded. "Sounds good to me, Frank."

The two amateur detectives found the car rental shop sandwiched in between two fast food rentals. Nancy grabbed her purse and strode inside, muttering a thanks under her breath as Frank held the door open for her. The clerk behind the counter was a shy looking woman, whose nametag read 'Susan.'

Susan's light brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun, thick black rectangular glasses covering her green eyes. She looked up as the bell above the front door dinged with a cheerful shy smile on her face.

"Hello! Can I help you?" she chirped happily, setting aside the paperwork she'd been working on upon seeing Nancy and Frank approach her at the desk.

"I'm here to report an accident," Nancy said, slipping off her purse and glancing up at Frank, whose expression remained grave but polite. "One of your cars. I rented it from you yesterday afternoon before the shop closed. It was involved in an accident this afternoon," she said, dipping into her bag for a pen.

Susan's cheerful demeanor immediately grew more serious as her smile faltered a little and she reached for an official accident report document and a pen. After taking down both Nancy and Frank's names, she asked for a description of the accident itself.

The clerk studied the accident report for a moment, her pen clamped in her jaw as she rummaged through a filing cabinet. "One moment, please. Wait a second," she murmured, digging deeper through her records. "This can't be right. I—I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't have any record of a car being rented out to a Nancy Drew!" she exclaimed, sounding surprised.

Nancy and Frank exchanged a look of surprise.

"What?" asked Nancy, feeling dumbfounded. "But how is that possible? I—I rented the car from your company yesterday when mine was still in the shop, I remember the other clerk's name. Her name was Bette, and she had me sign the rental agreement that I have right here," she said, rummaging through her bag and withdrawing a folded copy of the agreement that she placed on the desk's ledge in front of Susan. "Then she made me list everyone in my party, had me sign the master roster while she typed up the agreement, after which she gave me the keys and she told me I was free to go! There must be a mistake!"

"Perhaps Bette misfiled it," said Susan, looking thoughtful as she smoothed out the folded paper and looked over the agreement. "Yes, this is ours, all right. One moment, please, while I look into this for you." After a moment of examining the document, her eyes brightened with understand. "Ah! I found it! Here, you see?" she said, adjusting her glasses by pushing them up the bridge of her nose while she shoved the agreement back towards Nancy and Frank. "I had called and talked to your credit card company the other day. We were booked solid."

Nancy sighed, tossing her hair back over her shoulders. She rubbed her temples as she felt the onset of a splitting headache. She just wanted to find Ned. "If they tried to contact me, I was probably already heading towards the Harvest Fest, and as you know, that ended in disaster." She lifted her head to look at Susan, who had a sympathetic look in her eyes. "But if my request didn't go through, then why was I able to rent a car in the first place?"

She scanned the document again and pointed. "Someone else rented the car for you. See it there? "Hold for Nancy Drew." They didn't give their name, just the company they were with, and they even named the car they wanted you to drive. Black four door sedan, license number AA7 7020. How odd."

"I'll say," snapped Frank, sounding agitated. "What's the name of the company they were with? Was it a man?"

Susan nodded, her gaze darting back and forth between Frank and Nancy. "Yes, it was a man, but that's all I can tell you. He didn't give his name, just the name of the company that he worked for was called Embrace Technology, and he wanted that car available first thing for you to rent, Miss Drew. Oh, and that Embrace Technology are new clients of ours. In fact, I think I just processed their agreement just the other day, matter of fact when I think on it."

"Do you own these cars?" Nancy asked, her detective senses tingling as she reached for a pen and swiped a sticky note off the clerk's desk to scrawl down the information she learned. "Or do you lease them?"

She nodded. "We lease them on a six month basis. This one came from…" Susan paused while she typed in the car's make and model into her database on the computer. "Here we go. This particular make and model came from Eagle Eye's Car Sales, owned by a man who goes by Jack Letson, off 10th Street."

"Thanks for all your help!" said Nancy, quickly jotting down the address from Susan and slipping her pen back into her bag. Susan waved goodbye as they exited the shop. She turned to Frank, a grave expression on her face. "Feel like taking a trip?"

Frank grinned. "We're going to see Mr. Letson, aren't we?" he teased, reaching up a hand tenderly to brush back a lock of her red hair over her shoulder.

"Can't fool you, Frank," she said, hailing another cab and scooting over to the far side of the passenger side so Frank could get in next to her. "That was a convenient little booby trap our skeleton man set for me. For us. He doesn't want me anywhere near him. This is a game for men like him. I know it, Frank."

Frank's hand drifted to where Nancy's hand sat and settled overtop hers, much to her delight. Though Frank was just a friend, she would be the first to admit during times like these, she needed comfort.

"We're going to find him, Nan, I swear it," he said, anger and pain laced in his voice as he barked out the address for the cab driver to take them to Mr. Letson's auto dealership. "We'll get Ned back, Nan."

Nancy stared out the window, not looking at Frank, purposely avoiding his hurt gaze. "I hope so…"


	8. Chapter 8: Look Out for Lana

Mr. Letson's dealership wasn't hard for them to find, and Nancy barely stifled her urge to grin as they stepped out of the Uber, and could already hear the familiar shouts of River Heights' best reporter, Lana Graham, and the desperate pleadings of her assistant, Eve Velasco, trying hard to talk her down.

Nancy pushed open the front doors of the dealership where the famous reporter was in the middle of a heated rant with none other than Mr. Jack Letson himself. If Lana Graham gave any indication that she heard the bell go off above the door, she ignored it.

Her assistant, Eve, a dark haired woman with a pale face and dressed in a crisp brown dress, brown tights and knee-length dark brown boots, accentuated by a black scarf met the detective's gaze and frantically shook her head, her hazel eyes wide.

_Do not do it_, she mouthed, causing Nancy to grin.

It was a well-known fact in River Heights that Lana Graham despised the young amateur detective, envious of her ability to always be first on scene when a crime was solved and the story broke.

Eve broke eye contact with Nancy and Frank and returned her attentions back to her boss, who was practically turning red in the face from shouting. "I think the Department of Transportation would like to know that Jack Letson is putting unsafe cars on the road!" bellowed Lana, tossing her dark locks over her shoulder, flicking it to one side in what Nancy knew to be a conscious act, having done it herself. "You bought a clunker sight unseen and dumped it off on a rental agency, Letson!" Therefore, she looked. Dangling from her perfect lobes are diamonds set in white gold. They are exquisite, accentuating the length of Miss Graham's neck. They cost more than Nancy made in a month. She realized she had been holding her gaze too long as the reporter could sense someone staring at her, turning, the smirk on her face was one of triumph, and Frank did not even have the decency to be embarrassed. Then again, why should he? _There is absolutely nothing romantic between us_, thought Nancy.

Lana Graham's lips curled into a sneer as her gaze fixated on Nancy. Every time she saw Nancy, she let herself hate her, feeling nothing if the younger woman were sad, feeling angry if she were happy. It took the reporter a long time to see those feelings as her problem, her envy. All she did was stand there with a smile that looked like it could light up the whole damn world, looking effortlessly beautiful.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Miss Drew, and…_another_ boyfriend?" she mocked, quirking her brow at Frank, giving him a quick once-over and admiring his muscular form beneath his jeans and sweater. "I must say, this one is a better fit for you than Mr. Nickerson, I'll give you that, Miss Drew," she jeered.

Ignoring the cruel jab, Nancy shifted her purse to her other arm and strode up to the front service desk, where Mr. Letson was temporarily looking relieved at the shouting having stopped, his white collared shirt crinkled slightly from where Miss Graham had grabbed it and chosen to shake him by the scruff.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, putting on his showmanship face and smiling jovially as he straightened his posture, glancing warily at Lana.

"She'll shut her mouth until our business here is concluded," snapped Lana irately before Nancy could even open her mouth to speak. "You and I, Jack, we're—"

"Discussing putting unsafe cars on the road?" finished Frank, deciding to interject at last. "So are we!" he shouted, his temper reaching his breaking point at last. "Where to start, Mr. Letson? One, the car we rented downtown, the axel had rusted out, and the breaks were faulty! What the hell, man?"

"Frank, calm down," urged Nancy frantically, gently tugging on Frank's sweater sleeve to pull him back. "Let me," she whispered, sending a chill down Frank's spine. She caught Eve's eye and winked. "Mr. Letson," she spoke up, feeling the voice of her father slowly come out as she felt her voice become harder, more businesslike and formal. "The car rental company you do business with leased a black four door sedan, license number AA7 7020. Recognize it?" she snarled, pulling her rental agreement from her bag and slamming it down.

"Vaguely," murmured Jack, though his eyes betrayed him. He was nervous, his eyes flitting through his shop, looking for a quick escape. "But I'm not responsible for cars once they leave the lot, if you have a problem with the car, take it up with the rental agency!" he snapped, suddenly busying himself by shuffling a stack of papers nearby.

"No, I think we'll take it up with _you_," hissed Lana, her eyes widening in astonishment as her mind worked quickly to pick up the pieces. "You two had car troubles too, didn't you?" she breathed, excited.

Frank nodded, confirming the reporter's suspicions.

"So did we," spoke up Eve at last, stepping forward and looking timid, daring to approach her boss, a look of immense relief at how Lana had calmed. "Brakes were bad as well. Almost ran us off the road, and the car was last year's model, so it shouldn't have."

Nancy froze. Their situation regarding their cars was almost the exact same. _Maybe there is a connection_. "Lana, may I ask you a question?" she asked immediately. "What story are you covering?"

Lana Graham shot the young detective a glowering look, but seeing that Nancy was not going to back down, she sighed, brushing a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "If you must know, I'm covering the Harvest Festival massacre. I guess whoever took your dearly beloved doesn't want me getting close."

"Did you find anything? Anything that might help me find Ned?" demanded Nancy, stepping forward so that her nose almost touched the tip of Lana's. The reporter scrunched her nose in a look of disgust and backed away only slightly, as if she was afraid to be near someone like Nancy, someone she deemed unworthy to be in the distinguished reporter's presence. "Please, Miss Graham," she pleaded, losing any semblance of hostility in her voice. "I know you and I don't exactly see eye to eye on most things—"

"That's an understatement," snapped Lana irritably.

"But I would greatly appreciate if you and I could set aside our differences on this just this once and work together. _Please_," she begged, feeling close to tears now as she thought of Ned, wherever he was. "Whoever took Ned is after me, I think, and I'm not going to rest until I get Ned home with me, where he belongs, and if there's anything at all that you learned or might be able to help find him, his life depends on it." She could practically feel Frank's jealous stare burning a hole in the back of her skull.

If she wasn't mistaken, she could practically see Lana's expression soften just ever so slightly as the reporter met the distraught amateur detective's eyes.

"I'll help you," she sighed. Then her expression turned deadly serious. "But if you tell anyone that I'm helping you, I swear I'll ruin your life, Drew."

Nancy allowed a wry smile to cross her lips as she dipped her head in acknowledgment. "I swear it."

Lana nodded, digging into her designer Louis Vuitton black shoulder bag for her phone, scrolling through her cell phone photos before finding the one she was looking for, zooming in on it so Nancy and Frank could see. "I captured that, right after the explosion."

Near the side of the amphitheater, a white van with black lettering could be seen near where the costumed skeleton man was seen shouting something. Nancy couldn't make out all of it, just the words Technology, and she wondered if the technology company from earlier the car rental clerk had mentioned earlier had anything to do with this.

"I found out the car belongs to a nationwide company called Embrace Technology, so I was heading to their headquarters next to see if I could get some answers when our brakes failed, which makes me think that this all is connected somehow, and now that I hear your car is having troubles too, it all makes sense. Whoever has Ned knows both of us, Miss Drew, and does not want us hunting him before he is ready to make his next play. I was also able to discern from my sources that this van has been seen several times around town, so we find the van, we may find our man. I found some kind of receipt near the explosion that may or may not help us. It's half burned up, all I can read is the receipt number and the name of the place it's from, receipt number 21A-333," added Lana smugly as she plunked her phone back into her purse and turned the rest of her wrath back onto Mr. Letson.

"Ma'am, no," pleaded Eve, but fell silent at the dark look the reporter shot her assistant, stepping back.

"As for you," she added, jabbing a neatly manicured French nail into Mr. Letson's chest. "You are going to rent both Miss Drew and I brand new rental cars right out of the showroom for as long as we need them, no charge! You failed to inspect our cars before they left the lot! I think the Department of Transportation would just love to know this!" she demanded hotly, her temper resurfacing.

The smile on Jack Letson's face fell and he grew uncomfortable. "Well, that's not—ah, couldn't we negotiate something about mileage?" he asked weakly. "Listen, ladies, let me make it up to you both. I—I'm sorry," he said at last, coughing a little.

A wicked smile appeared on Lana Graham's face that made Frank and Nancy's blood both run cold as she leaned in close to Mr. Letson's face, she could have kissed him if she was of a mind to do so.

"Apology _not_ accepted."


	9. Chapter 9: Business with Bess

An hour later, Nancy and Frank were driving a brand new car provided by Mr. Letson himself at no charge, with Frank behind the wheel this time. He glanced over at Nancy who was staring out the window, her elbow resting on the passenger armrest, her chin in her hand. "You're awfully quiet."

She sighed. "I'm thinking about that nice little booby trap that our skeleton man set up for me. Whoever he is, he does not want me finding Ned, at least not until he's ready for me to find him. But in the letter, he talked as though he knew who I was, and perhaps he does, but even if I am supposed to know this person, what the hell does he want with me, Frank?"

"I wish I knew," responded Frank quietly, mulling over the turn of events the afternoon had taken. He pulled up to a stop outside Bess Marvin's apartment complex. "What are we doing here, Nancy?" he asked suspiciously. "You know Bess isn't the type to—"

"I know, I know!" Nancy interrupted impatiently, pulling out her cell phone and speed dialing Bess's number. "But I did some digging on my iPad while you were signing the paperwork for the new rental car a while ago, and the guy that runs one of the costume shops in town is around our age, and—"

Nevertheless, Frank did not let her finish her sentence. He chuckled, his brown eyes twinkling mischievously as he caught on to the detective's plan. "So you want Bess to go in there and flirt up a storm, see what she can find out?" he finished, biting his lip. "A talent she doesn't give herself credit for."

"No, that she doesn't," agreed Nancy, shushing Frank as Bess finally answered. "Bess? I need a favor. Frank and I really need your help, Bess…"

* * *

Half-hour later, Bess Marvin stood outside the Haunted Hotspot, one of few costume shops in River Heights, a look of utter dismay on her face. "Ugh, you call this the perfect job?" she moaned, snapping her cell phone shut after arguing with Nancy the whole ride there. "Why do I let you talk me into these stupid stunts, Nancy? No, I won't do it!"

"Look," encouraged Nancy behind her. "Bess, you can _do_ this! Just go in there and ask what this receipt is for! No big deal! You can do this!" she said kindly, shoving the receipt in her hands that Lana had loaned to her and silently cheering her best friend on, Frank Hardy looked amused at all of it.

"But Nancy, this is your area of expertise, not mine!" she practically shouted, doing her best to control her voice as a few onlookers stared at her. Bess grinned nervously and waved at a few of them, who ignored the young blonde-haired woman and rolled their eyes as they went about their business. "I—I can't do this, Nance! I—I'm not like you, Nance, I get nervous when under high pressure situations! I get sweaty when I get nervous, my forehead gets all clammy, to say nothing of my armpits, Nan, please don't make me do this, please, please, please!" Bess wailed.

"BESS!" bellowed Frank, losing his patience, effectively silencing the blonde. "Trust us. You can do this. Don't give me that look, Bess. _Yes_, you can, Bess, and we'll even treat you to ice cream in a bit once you're finished," said Frank, a light seeming to ignite in his brown eyes as he fell silent and waited for Bess's response to his proposal.

"Fine," she grumbled, taking the burnt receipt and taking a second to admire her reflection in the mirror, admiring her long, lean legs in her black tights and black heeled booties, black mini skirt and gray knit long sleeve sweater, her blonde hair cascading in gentle curls to her breasts, her small black purse accentuating the entire ensemble. Bess took a deep breath and walked in, smoothing a few of her flyaway strands of hair and adjusting her skirt.

The front door of the shop was wrapped in orange lights that looked like miniature jack o lanterns. On the door was a sign, "Go back while you still can!" The doorbell above the shop shrieked like a witch when Bess pushed open the shop door, and the shopkeeper, a man not much older than her, looked up, a light blush speckling across his cheeks.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely. "Name's Matt," he added, a slight note of pride in his voice. "If you've come for a costume, we've got all kinds in the back."

_I'll bet you do_, thought Bess darkly, forcing her smile and hoping that it was genuine and it reached her eyes. She reached into her purse for the burnt receipt, amazed that Lana and Nancy could even _read_ this; the piece of paper was practically charred.

Bess Marvin tossed her blonde curls over her shoulder and flashed a dazzling smile at the shop keep named Matt, a cute enough guy, she supposed, with a thick mop of wavy brown hair and green eyes. "Actually," she confessed, tossing the receipt on the counter so he could see it. "I'm hoping you could help me. My…friend found this receipt the day of the Harvest Fest, and wanted to know who bought the costume, if the costume in fact came from here."

Matt's expression turned serious as he examined the receipt, clicking on his computer as he pulled up the receipt's item types. "Okay, here we go, 21A-333 was for a skeleton mask, one of several we stock here. Doesn't say who we sold it to, though, and our security footage was down the day of the Harvest Fest," he added almost as an afterthought, almost sheepishly as he looked guiltily towards Bess.

_Figures. How convenient for Ned's kidnapper_, thought Bess, making a mental note to tell Nancy and Frank when she got out of here. "Well, thanks, anyway!" she muttered, turning to leave, and stifled a smile when she heard the shop keep call after her.

"Wait!" he called out, growing flustered. "If—if you want, I can check in the back to see if we might have some footage from that day regardless. It's the least I can do. IF I can get your phone number," he said.

Rolling her eyes, Bess sighed, nodding. "Deal." _Nancy, you so owe me for this_, she thought as the shop keep turned, over eager to help and headed to the back. As she waited for the shop keep to come back, she absentmindedly browsed the costumes, mulling over the women's sections. She felt someone tap her on the shoulder, and she turned, expecting it to be Matt, and was startled when she came face-to-face with a costumed figure in black, a man by the looks of the person's build underneath, and he was wearing some kind of horrible tin contraption to conceal his face. "Don't scream," the person advised, their voice disguised by some kind of tech device.

Bess's face went white with shock as she struggled to speak. "What…do you…want?" she croaked hoarsely.

"Tell Miss Drew to stop hunting me," the skeleton man continued angrily, its voice regardless of the disguise cold and emotionless. "She won't find him. He'll be dead long before that," he teased, and then Bess's world went black before she could utter another word as the skeleton man drew back a hand and slapped her across the cheek, causing poor Bess to stumble backwards into a rack of costumes, clutching her face, eyes watering. His slap had been a good hit, loud as a clap and stung her face. It had been an open-handed smack and had left a red welt behind. Just below her eye was a small cut. "Ned Nickerson's going to be dead before the night's out," the skeleton man's voice warned her as it casually strolled towards the back exit. "Tell her, Bess Marvin. Don't disappoint me, doll face."

Bess could only stare helplessly after the costumed man, silently crying form the pain in her eye and fuming in her anger, furious for being so weak. She'd let him get away when she could have ended this.

Matt returned shortly, his arms laden with several different types of masks, his face white as a sheet at seeing Bess sitting on the ground, her eye blackening.

"Hey, are you okay?" he managed weakly, dropping the supplies and rushing to help Bess to her feet.

Bess could only cry.

_ I wasn't strong enough, Nance. I'm so sorry.._

* * *

Frank and Nancy sat on a park bench, waiting for Bess to come out of the shop, turning to Nancy to say something, only to find her cell phone in her hand as it was ringing, a blocked number listed. "Is it him?" he asked urgently, standing behind Nancy's shoulder. "Aren't you going to answer it?"

She nodded wordlessly, pressing the Accept button on her phone and putting it on speaker so Frank could listen in as well. "What do you want?" she demanded angrily, practically shouting into the phone. "If you haven't already let Ned go, I'll—"

"He'll be dead by midnight tonight if you don't follow my instructions precisely, Miss Drew," the voice commanded. "Just as I told Bess Marvin just now."

"WHAT?" shouted Frank, as they both looked up towards the Halloween shop, where they caught sight of the skeleton man disappearing down one of the side alleyways. Frank bolted, not bothering to wait for Nancy, despite her vehement protests he stop.

By the time he rounded the corner, it was a dead end, and whoever had been stalking them had gone. All that remained, any evidence that the skeleton man had been there was a crude message sprayed in red paint on the brick wall of the pizza shop next to the costume shop, scrawled hastily in huge red letters.

**IT'S PAYBACK TIME, NANCY. I'M COMING FOR YOU. DO NOT KEEP ME WAITING! MIDNIGHT, WAREHOUSE 13 BY THE DOCKS! COME ALONE OR HE DIES!**

"Shit!" swore Frank under his breath, anguished as he ran a hand through his dark hair, glancing up to see Nancy behind him, panting heavily and nearly out of breath at having run so fast. "He's not going to stop, is he?" he shouted, close to tears now as he grabbed Nancy's hand and led her back out to the front of the store. "We should—we should go check on Bess," he growled, needing a distraction now.

"Wait!" pleaded Nancy, grabbing onto his sweater sleeve, preventing him from taking another step forward. Frank turned, confused at her outburst. "It's me he wants," she said, feeling her voice go dangerously soft and quiet as she glanced back towards the crude message left for her and her alone.

"Nancy, you cannot mean what I think you're saying!" shouted Frank, growing angrier the longer they dwelled on this topic. "You cannot give yourself up to this—this serial killer! NO! I won't let you! If you do this, if you give yourself up to him, it's suicide!"

"He doesn't want Ned, he wants me! I have to save Ned! It's the only way, I don't see another way, Frank, do you?" she shouted, feeling her tears come hard and intense, not bothering to stop her flow of tears as she cried. "I'm not…I'm not going to let anyone die tonight for me." Words flew from Nancy's mouth that she never thought she'd think, let alone say, as she ranted and raved, upset at the situation more so than Frank, who was rendered speechless by her outburst. She knew instantly from the look in his eyes that they'd hit their mark. In that instant, their relationship shattered into glassy shards. Nothing would ever be the same again, not after tonight. Not after this…

Nancy's rant finished, she fell silent and waited for Frank to say something—anything—to break the awkward silence. She lifted her chin and dared to meet Frank's eyes with her own. Frank looked as though Nancy had slapped him, beside himself.

"You impossible _idiot_, Nancy Drew, you don't get it, do you? Do I need to spell it out for you?" he growled, catching Nancy's face in his hands and kissing her, catching the detective completely by surprise, her startled shout making stutters of their kiss. Frank knew what they were doing was wrong, so very wrong, and he knew that she didn't love him back, but he couldn't resist. Dear God, he couldn't fight the thoughts that were going through him. Her very smell was flooding his senses now, his senses had been seduced and he could no longer think straight. She stiffened at first, not returning his kiss, but gradually she relented, and she reciprocated getting lost in his embrace. When she kissed him, Frank's brain lit on fire and warmth spread throughout his entire body. After that, he was addicted. He couldn't bear not to be with her, and he could barely breathe when she was around. Her kiss was his salvation and his torment. He lived for it and he would die with the memory of it forever on his lips. Frank Hardy dedicated his life to being with Nancy from the moment of that first kiss, the only one or not, for he knew that if he lost her, he would lose himself. Nancy was the half that made him whole. He couldn't lose her, he just couldn't, and for her to ask that of him was unacceptable. He wouldn't let her do this. As cheesy as it sounded, their kiss was just like the movies. For that single moment, time for him stopped. Frank didn't care about the people around them. _Let them see_, he thought angrily, slanting Nancy's head slightly, deepening their kiss. In fact, he didn't even notice them. It was just her and him. There was no war, no massacre, no death, just them.

For Nancy, Frank's kiss, though unexpected and wrong, stole the words she didn't need to say. In that silence, all their secrets were laid bare, all their passions and the spark of…whatever they had, whether it be love or lust that existed between them. In that moment, in his love, Nancy was strong. One kiss and she had the courage to do what needed to be done. She broke apart first, shoving him backwards, panting heavily. Frank's face was flushed and his cheeks high with color, his dark hair tousled.

Nancy could hardly swallow as heat engulfed her body. She grimaced. _Why did I let him use me like that?_ She shivered with anger as well as fear, and had been about to bolt for the rental car and leave Frank behind to figure himself out, when Bess's shout broke the heavy tense silence between the two of them. "What the hell was that?" Bess bellowed.

Frank cringed, turning around guiltily to see Bess, now sporting a hell of a black eye, glaring at them. _Great_, he thought, groaning. _Now I'm in for it. _

* * *

A/N: Please don't hate me...I had to throw in some Frank/Nancy drama, and I'm still not quite entirely sure what's in store for Ned, but I hope to tell this story the way I feel like it deserves to be told, and I have lots of ideas in store. I wasn't originally going to throw their kiss in there like this, and had scrapped it, but then decided given the high tension situation Nancy finds herself in, it's warranted. :)


	10. Chapter 10: A Warning

At Scoops, the local ice cream parlor, Bess stood with her hands spread over the chilled glass like dark sea stars, occasionally shooting Frank a dirty look. If there had been three choices, she would have picked one long ago, but the array put her mind into a happy tingle of possibilities, a distraction she so desperately needed to distract herself from the pain in her black eye and the dirty little secret she had walked in on, catching Frank red handed in a kiss. There wasn't just all the flavors, but all the possible combinations. "I don't know!" Bess turned to Nancy, whose cheeks were red and flushed with embarrassment. "What should I get, Nance?"

"Well," Nancy mused thoughtfully. "Chocolate is always my favorite, perhaps with some pistachio and chocolate sauce on top? That always puts you in a good mood. Why not try for that this time?" she asked, noticing Bess nod, her grin instant.

"Chocolate it is," she chirped, shooting Frank another withering look as he pulled out his wallet to pay for the girls' ice cream cups, following them outside to sit on a park bench. Bess ate in silence for a few minutes, savoring the sweetness of the chocolate before she swallowed her bite of ice cream, her tone serious as she turned to Frank. "You want to tell me what that was about?" she asked softly.

"It—it was a mistake," mumbled Frank, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks as he almost choked on his bite of rocky road ice cream. _Fitting_, he thought bitterly. Suddenly, he wished he had never done it.

Nancy, for her part, seemed to have forgiven Frank. Either that or she didn't want to linger on the incident in present company, and wanted to talk to him about it later, when things had calmed down. The detective finished her ice cream quickly, tossing her cup in the trash and so much without a goodbye, took her leave. She needed time alone. She was going to that warehouse tonight, Frank or no Frank, if it meant it was the only way to save Ned.

Frank made to follow her, but let out a yelp as Bess grabbed his sweater sleeve and yanked him back with more force than he thought possible of the little blonde, who glowered at him as she shoveled another spoonful of chocolate ice cream in her mouth. "What?" he demanded. He could feel himself beginning to grow defensive. "Don't…give me that look, Bess, I—I couldn't help it, okay? It just sort of…happened," he sighed, swirling his melting ice cream in his cup, suddenly no longer hungry. Irate, he chucked the cup in the trash and folded his arms across his chest, fuming in his anger, hating himself.

Bess seemed to sense what he was thinking. "You shouldn't blame yourself, Frank, but…Nancy's…"

"I _know_ she's engaged!" he bellowed, cringing as he watched Bess wince as his temper erupted. His sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers and slumped back against the park bench. "I'm sorry, Bess, I didn't mean to snap, I just always thought…Nancy and I were meant to be together…"

Bess Marvin fidgeted with the straps of her little black purse, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

"Did she like it?" she asked, her question catching Frank off guard. Startled, he turned to stare at her incredulously. "What?" she snapped, growing annoyed with the older Hardy brother's cluelessness. "You can't just kiss our best friend and not expect to keep the details to yourself, now, can you?" she teased, biting her lip and socking Frank on the arm as she took another bite of ice cream. "Mm, Toni's really outdone herself with this flavor. Try it?"

He begrudgingly obliged, allowing the sweet taste of the chocolate to lay on his tongue before following it with a swig of water from his water bottle. He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair and weaved his fingers in between his knuckles, a nervous habit of his, Bess affectionately noticed as she fell silent.

Frank noticed several interested men admiring Bess's legs in her tights and mini skirt as she sat with her legs crossed on the park bench next to Frank, but the blonde gave no indication that she had seen the interested glances or acknowledged them. She had eyes only for Frank Hardy, and for that, he was appreciative, grateful to Bess Marvin.

"I think so," he admitted, pained. Bess was surprised to see the level of heartbreak in Frank's eyes. "I can't let her do this, Bess. She—she's going to go to that warehouse tonight, I just know it, and I'm not going to let her give herself up to that pyscho. She has _no_ _idea_ what it would do to her family—to _me_—if she got herself killed trying to save Ned's life!" he yelled. "I'm not just going to sit by and let that happen, Bess!"

"Could we go see George? Maybe she can help us track the truck if she can find it, pinpoint a location," Bess mused thoughtfully. "I don't like this, either, Frank," she spoke up, her tone grave. "I think Nance is walking right into a trap, as always. I don't think our skeleton man is going to have Ned at the warehouse, I think he'll be kept somewhere else."

Frank stared, hardly daring to believe it. He couldn't resist teasing Bess. Just a little bit. "Why, Bess, if I didn't know you better, I'd say you're enjoying this whole sleuthing bit!" he joked, relishing the dawning look of horror in his friend's eyes. "You are, aren't you?" he teased, chuckling lightly at her expression.

Bess blushed, finally polishing off the last of her ice cream and wiping her mouth and hands with her napkin, tossing it into the trash can next to their bench. She sighed as she stood up; stretching her legs and adjusting her purse to her other shoulder.

"Maybe, maybe not," she retorted hotly, gathering her blonde hair and pulling it up into a loose bun. "But if there's one thing I know, it's that Nancy and Ned are both in trouble tonight, and like you said, friends don't let friends get left behind. We're going to be there for her every step of the way. Right, Frank?"

Frank nodded as he stood to walk alongside Bess back to the rental car, wondering where Nancy was. Wherever she was, he hoped she was okay…

* * *

Leaning back in frustration, George Fayne let some glittering beads of sweat trickle down her forehead. She stared at the contrasting white pixels against black as if all the URLs and fragments of code clogged the gears of her mind. Although the overheated laptop scorched her laps and the jungle of algorithms played a laser show on her glasses, she held her breath to concentrate as if her life depended on it. George's eyes combed the monitor in search of a bug, moving from side to side rapidly like the eyes of a dreaming person but wide open. Nothing could be heard in the stuffy apartment but the violent beating of her fingers against a keyboard and the increasingly unbearable spin of the CPU cooler fan. In the air, the scent of coffee and hot electronics was replaced by sweat. The tension and suspense solidified. Suddenly, a hysteric laughter broke out in triumph. With a hesitant click, she transferred the contents of fifty bank accounts of well-known criminals that Nancy herself had put behind bars into several offshore accounts and called her minor success a huge win in today's activities. A hacker by trade, George prided herself on her abilities, and wasn't surprised to see Bess and Frank standing outside her apartment after the knock on the door.

"Nancy again?" These days, she didn't even have to ask. They nodded, confirming her suspicions. She grinned, allowing them entry into her simple abode.

"We think she's walking into a death trap," Frank spoke up, pulling from his jacket pocket a crumpled image of the Embrace Technology white van. "We think whoever is behind all this works for a tech company. Or it could be a front, I don't know. Either way, this vehicle was seen the day of the bombing, right by the amphitheater alleyway where our perp made his getaway with Ned in tow," he sighed, tossing the photo onto George's coffee table. "Can you track it?" he asked, surveying George's face.

George scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Please. Of course I can track it, Frank. This is _me_, you know. Just give me a second," she muttered, popping a stick of gum into her mouth to help her concentrate as her fingers flew over her keyboard, running the van's license plate through multiple databases until she got a hit. "And here we go!" she laughed triumphantly. "Van belongs to an Eddie Raymond, lives on Maintenon Street just across the way. But judging by his photo," she sneered, squinting her eyes as she pulled up picture of the guy's driver license, a scrawny bespectacled man who looked like one good gust of wind would blow him away. "I don't think he's our guy," she admitted, tucking a wisp of stray brown hair behind her ear as she readjusted her glasses that she wore only when computing. "The skeleton creep is more muscular, more defined. And he's…"

"A shrimp," finished Frank, shaking his head slightly. Bess snorted and quickly turned it into a cough to disguise her laughter. "I say we go pay him a visit. George, it's your turn to be a distraction."

The young hacker looked stunned. "What?" she asked, as though she had misheard Frank Hardy.

"C'mon, this guy works for a tech company, he's into computers!" squealed Bess, adrenaline practically coursing through her veins. "He's not going to be swayed by the likes of me; he's going to want a nerd! No offense," she added, smirking as George shot her cousin a dark look. "Will you help us, George? Nancy is going to the warehouse tonight at midnight. That gives us…" Bess glanced at her phone. "Eight hours. We have eight hours to find something on this guy before it's too late for both her and Ned, George."

George Fayne sighed, recognizing defeat. She nodded weakly. "Fine, fine, I'll do it," she grumbled. "But I won't like it, and…hey, what's that look for?" she accused, her hands on her hips as she noticed the wicked gleam in Bess's eyes. "I know that look!"

"Well, you're certainly not going to get anywhere with Mr. Eddie Raymond dressed like _that_…"

* * *

George grumbled to herself the whole drive to Eddie Raymond's house, hating how she allowed herself to get into these situations. Her cousin had dressed her in a dark purple, almost maroon colored sweater that emphasized her dark pixie cut, removed her glasses, applied a light natural makeup to George's face that accentuated her eyes and showed off her great cheekbones, and had dressed her in black tights and a miniskirt similar to the one Bess was wearing. "Here!" she chirped, oblivious to her cousin's discomfort as she rummaged through George's closet to work with what the hacker owned and tossed a little black crossbody purse her way. "Put whatever you think you'll need in there," she ordered lightly. "Don't give me that look, Fayne, just shut up and do it! For Nancy and Ned, okay?" she squeaked, and George reluctantly obliged.

George had left her apartment with a USB drive, her lock picking kit (just in case!), two cell phones, more cords than she knew what to do with, and a Taser.

_Can't be too careful with a killer on the loose_, she thought darkly as she stared up at Eddie Raymond's house. When at last George arrived, the house was a gray blur behind the rain-washed window of their rental car. It was large, certainly, almost intimidatingly so. On climbing out, the man's house took on a more detailed form, natural gray stone with all the hues only Mother Nature could provide. The paintwork on the trim was brilliant white, flawless and the path wound to a double oak front door was loose pea shingle. The windows weren't the large ones that were fashionable now, but the size she used to see in old country cottages, and like them they were mullioned. But that's where the old world charm ended, once she took a deep breath, steeling her nerves and uncomfortably shuffled up the door in her ridiculous outfit and knocked on the door, as Eddie Raymond opened the door and gawked openly at George, once he allowed her to cross the threshold, it was technology and modern design all the way.

"C—can I help you?" he stuttered, eyeing George's outfit with growing intrigue and lust in his eyes.

Eddie Raymond was tall and gangly, his Adam's apple prominent, his red hair mussed and tousled.

George was momentarily taken aback. "Um, y-yes," she stammered, tripping over her words, and hating every second of this. "I'm hoping you can help me, d—do you work for Embrace Technology?"

Eddie's eyes narrowed slightly. "Sure do," he admitted, folding his arms across his chest. "What can I do for you, Miss…?"

"George," she said a little too quickly.

"George, then," he grinned, making George feel uneasy. His grin was almost too wide, almost Cheshire cat like. "What brings a beautiful woman such as yourself here to my humble abode?"

Resisting the urge to punch this man's lights out, George bit her lip and pulled out the photo of the van the day of the attack. "Is this your van?" she inquired, noticing the catch in the man's breath and how his demeanor changed from flirtatious to shocked and at a loss for words. "It is, isn't it?"

"I—it was reported missing a few days ago," he stammered, his turn to grow nervous. "I reported it to the police, and my company was supposed to issue me a new one, but they haven't yet. I have security cameras all around my house, though. Pretty sure I got the guy's face on tape, just can't ID him," he added, sounding proud of that fact. George watched, slightly amused, as Eddie puffed out his chest slightly and motioned for her to follow him with a wave of his arm.

George opened her mouth to speak, but didn't get a chance to as the passage of light in the hallway seemed to slow down and the sounds became as if she were underwater as the resonating sound of a gun being fired outside vibrated in her eardrums. Aside from the beat of her heart, no muscle moved.

The bullet entered Eddie as if he were nothing, just meat, blood, and bones, blasting a cavity in his back as it burst crimson into the fading day and onto his carpet. His face, awkward and kind of bumbling in life, was now frozen, eyes open, mouth slack, as he was propelled backward. His eyes held George's and in those fractions of seconds, the man was there and then gone, simply departed from earth.

George stood frozen, unable to move as she watched the man's life force seep from his body, soon to be cold, his crimson blood thick and garish as it stained the carpet. Another bullet flew past her ear, just grazing the tip, causing George to cry out. She stifled a cry at the sound of glass breaking, and something that sounded like an old tin can being thrown.

She shielded her face, expecting a bomb, but was met with just that, a soup can with the label torn off and a message scrawled in black marker. With trembling fingers, she picked it up, repressing her urge to break down and scream.

**HAVE YOU FIGURED IT OUT YET?** The message read. **NANCY GOES ALONE, OR THEY BOTH DIE! **

George swallowed hard, reaching into the black purse Bess had loaned her for her cell phone. "You're not safe, Nan, have to warn you," she muttered through gritted teeth, cringing at the pain in her ear as it bled. She was lucky the creep hadn't blown her whole ear off. The hacker resisted the urge to throw her cell phone across the room when a blocked number appeared, the ringing phone the only noise in the now silent house. "Shit, shit, shit," she cursed, flipping the phone open. "Hello? Who is this?"

"Stay out of this!" snarled a distorted voice, sounding furious. George wished she were back at home, she could be tracing the call right about now if she were. "Consider that message your one and only warning. Nancy Drew goes to the warehouse alone, or I will kill every last one of you until she's the only one left."

The caller hung up before George could even utter another syllable. "Oh, shit," she moaned, distraught as she ran a hand through her hair, plunking her phone back into her purse. "Nance, whatever you've gotten yourself into now, please be careful…"

George could feel her brain beginning to shut down as her eyes landed on Eddie Raymond's corpse. She was clammy and there was the glisten of a cold sweat on her brow. Her eyes were wide as if someone was coming to deliver the final blow, but it didn't come.

Yet what she saw—no one else could see. Trapped in her own psychosis, a living nightmare for one, tailor made by her own brain to play on her deepest fears.

Of being alone.


	11. Chapter 11: An Unlikely Pairing

Joe Hardy could hardly take his eyes away from Bess's shiner of a black eye. Normally his brother was the one who had trouble at times controlling his temper, but seeing one of Nancy's best friends sport such a horrific looking purple bruise on her left eye that would eventually yellow with age was almost too much for him to bear.

He had gotten the call from Frank less than an hour ago and had rushed over to the costume shop to pick up Bess after Nancy had abandoned Frank, needing time to herself apparently. Something had happened, but whatever it was, Frank wasn't telling, so the younger Hardy brother hoped he could get it out of Bess over lunch. If he was being honest with himself, Joe also had a completely selfish reason for wanting to have lunch with the petite blonde-haired woman.

He had a crush. He had one on Bess for as long as he could fathom. "Crush" was such an infantile word, one that must have been invented by older folks, the ones with an interest in belittling young love. Joe hated it. He didn't just have a crush on Bess Marvin. She was the one. He knew it. She was all that was in his mind, she was his true north, his everything. One day, they'd prove everyone wrong, run away together, start a family of their own. Today, he'd find a way to talk to Bess, tell her how he felt, then he could finally stop hiding his true emotions after all these years.

Bess tossed her blonde curls over her shoulders and adjusted her purse as they strolled through downtown River Heights, looking for a decent pizza parlor to have lunch in. Joe suppressed a smile and glanced down to see their hands hovering dangerously close together. Bess Marvin was so proud of her hair, but it wasn't the best thing about her, in Joe's opinion. It fell in golden ringlets and waves about her pale skin, so striking that it was the only thing anyone ever commented on when they saw her. But Joe barely noticed it. He could drink in her words like a strong wine and enjoy feeling buzzed. He watched Bess like she held the stars in her hands and soft petals at her feet. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let her go. First things first, he had to ask her out on a date, and his nerves were so bad he shook at just the very thought of doing it.

"Bess," he managed to croak out, cringing at how horrible and hoarse his voice. Joe ran a hand through his blond hair, coughing once to clear the lump forming in his throat and tried again. "I um…"

Bess was leaning against a building's wall, one hand fumbling with her black mini skirt. Joe's eyes drifted downwards towards her fantastic, tantalizing legs in those tights, her skirt emphasizing one of her best physical qualities. With the nail of her manicured thumb in her mouth, she scanned the town square, biting down harder than she had intended and swallowing the fragment. She sighed, glancing up at Joe, wincing visibly as he cringed at seeing her black eye. A pigeon was coming closer, rotating between pecking the ground and observing her with its head cocked. She let out a bitter laugh, releasing some of the tension. Dating these days was crappy. She was sick of telling men about herself only for them to decide she wasn't what they were looking for, if she had to hear, "It's not you, it's me," again, she thought she would puke. Bess Marvin brushed a lock of her blonde wavy hair behind her ear and glanced over at Joe, who was seemingly struggling to speak.

"What is it, Joe?" she asked, quirking a delicately shaped brow towards the younger Hardy brother.

Joe was having a difficult time. His focus was so scattered, so filled with nervous anticipation was he, so excited, even giddy. He couldn't form the words his mind so desperately wanted to scream at Bess, let alone sit still. He'd hoped once he could finally get the words out, this lunch would be their first date, and they could really celebrate once Ned was back with them, and perhaps he could take Bess as his plus one to Nancy and Ned's wedding. First, he had to ask her out to lunch. Just do it, his conscious guided him, but he opened his mouth to speak and was rendered speechless. He frowned, earning a confused look from Bess, who was looking surprise, but to her credit, chose not comment on it, for which he was internally grateful. He was suffering enough.

This lunch would be their first date. He could picture it already—holding hands, a tingling feeling spreading throughout his entire body. After lunch, to calm her nerves over Nancy and Ned's predicaments, he would take Bess for a walk to the park and they could sit and count the ducks and watch the autumn leaves fall. It seemed the most natural thing in the world. And Bess Marvin, his special girlfriend.

"Well," he began again, taking a deep breath and steeling the worst of his nerves, willing his mind and body to calm the hell down. "I know how hard it must be for you watching Nancy go through what she's going through, with Ned and Frank and all."

A grim look overcame her features and she nodded wordlessly, not saying a word. She didn't need to.

"So, in light of that, to—to take your mind off things, I…was wondering if you would like to go on a date."

"A date?" A pause. A beat. Bess stared, hardly daring to believe it. Joe Hardy, asking her out on a date? As _more_ than friends? She'd always found Joe cute, but never had quite worked up the courage to tell him.

"Yes, as—as people," Joe said and immediately cursed himself, turning away as a muscle in his jaw twitching involuntarily. _Damn it_, he thought angrily. _Do not blow this, man!_ _You've got one shot, Joe! _He turned back around and to his relief, she was smiling. "I—I thought you and I could grab a pizza, and then maybe afterwards see a movie? We can check in on Nancy after, see if she needs anything."

Bess fell silent, studying the younger Hardy brother for a moment. Joe wasn't quite as serious as Frank, often joking and more adventurous of the two. He was cute, and she could see being happy with him.

Therefore, she said the only thing she could. "Yes. I'd really like that, Joe. Where should we go for lunch?" she said, flashing a brilliant white smile Joe's way that almost made his heart stop. Bess didn't wait to ask for permission before intertwining her hand with Joe's, and he grinned, thinking how nice it felt to be holding her hand after years of dreaming.

Joe practically dragged Bess along the side streets, knowing at last where to take her for lunch. There was nothing better than the pizza at Dario's. The base was the perfect combination of light inside and crunchy on the bottom. The toppings were fresh and fragrant. It was the only place he could think of to take Bess for their first date. Not so posh she felt intimidated and not so down-market she felt cheated. Everyone knows Frank and Joe lived in the big house, but Joe couldn't have her think he was a snob or too expensive to date. The owner of the pizza parlor, Ben Dario himself, made pizza like no one else from a pizza stone. There were even herbs in the dough, the dough made from scratch. The dough was mostly whole-wheat, yet still so light. The sauce he used had chunks of tomato and the topping was three cheeses. There was nowhere else in the world that sold pizza like this, and even if they did, it wouldn't be as good as Dario's. This was homemade pizza at its finest, what could be better than that?

"What kind of toppings do you like?" Bess asked, glancing over the menu, surprising Joe. He had assumed, given her love of clothes and fashion, that she would have been a picky eater as well, but that wasn't the case. "What kind should we get, Joe?"

"Greek Supreme," he offered and grinned as he watched a light ignite in her eyes. She nodded her agreement and tossed their menus aside, sipping on a water through a plastic straw. When their food finally arrived, the pizza itself was as big as the wheels on Joe's car. It was thick crust with feta cheese, olives, and fresh tomatoes. The dough was whole-wheat but they couldn't really tell as they ate.

Between the two of them, they ate about half of it, and boxed up the rest to take home the leftovers.

"Stake out food," Bess teased and smiled, taking a second to adjust her blonde tresses into a loose bun, shifting her black purse to her other arm. "What movie, Joe?" she asked, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. "There's a good horror movie playing, you want to try for that?" she suggested.

Joe grinned. This just kept getting better and better. "I didn't know you liked horror," he said, laughing a little as he instinctively reached for Bess's hand, their pizza boxes in the other. "I never pegged you as a blood and guts type," he confessed, ashamed.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," she retorted back, sounding only slightly defensive, but her eyes were playful, with a suggestive, teasing sheen to them. Joe placed his arms around her when they got to the outside of the movie theater after dropping their pizza boxes off in Joe's car, and Bess leaned in closer to him. The softness and gentle touch of his arm against her neck made Bess's back tingle.

They didn't speak, because in their own way, they were already communicating, signaling to each other that it felt natural, that it felt right.

Bess and Joe sat in the movie theater, barely noticing the popcorn that failed to make it to their mouths when the movie started. When the screen fell to black, Bess's body would become rigid and her hand flailed for Joe. Silences never lasted long at the movies, merely tools to heighten the drama, ploys of stylistic effect—depriving the senses of light and sound just long enough to peak their fears. The next moment was maximum intensity: loud, bright, fast, shocking. Bess was back in her seat, eyes open wide and face white. Joe's hand moved like clockwork the whole time with most of his salty treat making it to his already growling stomach. He grinned. This wasn't one of those artsy, romantic, enigmatic films you got dragged to against your will by your girl, no.

This was action, thriller, horror at its finest, and he was on a date with the girl of his dreams, and he couldn't be happier.

On their walk to the park after the movie, they held hands and Bess couldn't remember the last time she'd talked so much. Joe asked her all sorts of questions, from her favorite color (pink!), to her favorite food, favorite movie, books, pastimes, etc.

Joe, for his part, other than asking Bess questions, was quiet tonight, not like him at all, Mister Chatter himself, Bess thought, frowning a little as she glanced over sideways at Joe, who seemed lost in his own thoughts. She was used to the long tales, the rambling, and the quick wit. She bit her lip for just half a second before sitting next to him on a park bench, flicking her hair in the fading light of the evening. Joe spoke to her before she had a chance.

"Bess, I…I love you," he confessed, his voice sounding pained. "I have for some time now, I just...never could figure out a way to tell you."

There was something in Joe's candor that worried Bess, this wasn't Joe. He wasn't usually direct like this. "I love you, Bess. I love you with everything that I am, but at the same time, I am so scared that if you stay with me, you'll die. My line of work is dangerous. Look at what happened to Ned!"

So this was it. _It's his sense of chivalry that's holding him back_, she thought. _I don't know whether to hit you or to hug you, Joe Hardy_. "This is my choice, Joe," Bess said quietly, feeling her tone grow somber, serious, also not like her. She prided herself on being chipper, happy-go-lucky, but not right now. "Isn't that what truly defines us, Joe? Not the darkness in our minds or hearts, but the things we do to better the world?" Joe looked away, and Bess knew his eyes were so full of emotion he didn't want to share.

"If we go after this guy for—_with_—Nancy, tonight," he corrected quickly, at last turning to face Bess again. "I can't protect you when you get out there, Bess. I'll be helpless and so afraid. I'd rather put myself in the firing line an infinite number of times than have you there once. You know what the skeleton man will do to you if he takes you alive. For God's sake, Bess, the man cut off Ned's freaking finger, he killed a technician in cold blood, shot George's ear, and he hit you and gave you a black eye, Bess! The perp's a fucking psychotic son of a—" he shouted.

"We don't know it's Ned's," she reminded him softly, laying a hand on his shoulder. "The results from the lab haven't come back yet, and Nancy hasn't said." His voice trails off, and she knew what Joe is thinking. Bess could read it in his eyes. _How could I have been so dumb to start a romance with everything going on? But was there really a choice? Without love, how are we to go on fighting, and this man can't win. _

"Joe, we'll be fine. Ned and Nancy are both strong. We'll get Ned back, I promise. Besides, she's got you, me, George, and the entire police department in her corner, doesn't she? She isn't alone in this. And…" Bess hesitated, looking out at the ducks on the banks. "I…I love you too, Joe," she confessed, feeling a huge weight off her shoulders as she admitted her true feelings after years of hiding it from herself. "More than words could ever express. I would live lifetimes by your side if I could. But this fight has our name on it, we _have_ to stop this guy. We have to help Nancy get Ned back in any way we can."

Joe began to nod slowly, his shoulders beginning to shake. This wasn't the future he'd thought they would have, but if they wanted things to go back to the way they used to be, if they wanted a beautiful world, a better world, not only for themselves, but for their family, any kids they might have one day, if the two of them got lucky enough to get to that point, and all the generations after that, then they had to.

_For Nancy and Ned_, thought Joe sadly. He was jolted out of his thoughts as he realized Bess had asked him a question. He looked guilty as he turned to look at her. Bess was staring at him with a new intensity.

"Why do you like me?" She whispers, her delicate hands tracing the freckles on his arm, connecting them with invisible lines like a dot-to-dot puzzle.

Joe stared. "How could I not?" he replied, almost sounding angry with Bess, cupping her cheek so her beautiful eyes met his own. She frowned at his answer and looked away. He dropped his hand and fiddled with the zipper on his jacket instead. Joe loved the fading sunset behind her eyes, the moonlight that danced through her blonde tresses, the sadness nestled in the creases of her palms.

He loved all of her, not just the parts that made sense, not just the parts she had shown him. He loved the parts of her that he didn't yet understand, the parts that weighed on Bess's shoulders, the parts he only noticed when he stole glances at her in silence. "How could I not." Bess opened her mouth to say something, but Joe had to do this. His desire was reaching his limit, and if he didn't do it now, he felt like he was going to explode. "Shh," he shushed her, before moving his finger, and pressing his hand against her cheek, giving him more support to push himself towards her, and connect their lips. Joe's lips were firm against hers, but their kiss remained soft, gentle, and slow. They held it for a few seconds, before their lips began to move in perfect sync, slowly, cautiously. He exhaled through his nose, not wanting to let go and end it. His entire body had been taken over by the overwhelming feeling of relief, combined with eccentric panic and lust for Bess. He moved his hand from her cheek to the back of her head, his fingers entangled in her long blonde hair, lightly pulling Bess into him, adding more pressure to their lips, deepening the kiss. If they died tonight along with Nancy and Ned by going after this killer, then he was going to make his last night alive count.

The whole town of River Heights could explode tonight in another horrible bomb, the city on fire, and Joe didn't care if the world ended and burned, as long as he was moving inside Bess when it happened.

* * *

A/N: I know I might get a lot of hate for pairing Bess & Joe together, but I've always thought they could be cute together, and I didn't want Joe to always be the odd one out. Given how dark this story seems to be turning, I figured I needed a happy chapter to balance things out! For those that are still reading this, I hope you enjoy! :)


	12. Chapter 12: Lamenting with Luke

Officer Perry hadn't anticipated incurring Chief McGinnis' wrath for allowing the Drew woman to give him the slip on her lunch break, but the lieutenant was determined to find the young detective before she wound herself in another tight spot of trouble, lest he face Terry McGinnis without Nancy Drew in tow.

Luke had spent the better part of the afternoon searching for Miss Drew, resolving not to return back to the station until he found her. As he followed Nancy having spotted her at last, he reflected on his time spent in River Heights. It was never the money, although he earned a decent living as a police officer in the small Midwestern town in Illinois. Luke had signed up to protect and serve; maybe he was old fashioned that way, but he believed in public service. He saw the worst of humanity on a daily basis and it tested him. It tested his faith in the goodness of people and his natural cheery optimism.

He was there when the fire crews cut lifeless teens from the mangled wrecks of their birthday presents. He was there when a bleeding wife refused to press charges. He was there when the streetwalkers were released back to the same abused and drug-addled lives. But he also witnessed the firefighters rush into burning buildings, he saw the paramedics pulling miracles from thin air, he saw the emergency nurses with their quick hands and the doctors who took charge of situations that most would run from. Luke was proud to be a police officer. He was proud of his unit, and the chief. He was the salt of the earth. The world needed more like him.

The frantic lieutenant finally found her in the River Heights local park. He saw the way the young woman walked, her shoulders back, yet her eyes frequently checking her own appearance, it was as if she felt insecure and superior all at once. _Perhaps that's the emotional optimum in a shallow society_, he mused, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips. But then Miss Drew would get this sort of swagger, a sort of free-style motion that told Officer Perry that she was content with who she was, her eyes on the sky, the trees and the bids, music in her soul as much as her ears. She was walking unusually slowly at the moment, however, almost robotically, as if her brain was struggling to tell each foot to take the next step. It was as if she were in a stupor, like someone under hypnosis in one of those Scooby-Doo cartoons on Saturdays.

Nancy, unaware that Luke was following her, needed to clear her mind. It took much longer than expected as she absentmindedly strolled through the park; the fallen autumn leaves crunching beneath her sandals. Frank had _kissed_ her! _Why did he do it?_ She thought, distraught and beside herself. Moreover, what kind of person was she to have liked it? She had kissed him back! Nancy almost hadn't been able to control herself, and here she was, supposed to be engaged to her long-term boyfriend, Ned Nickerson, who was missing. What he would think of her if he ever knew!

She huffed in frustration, kicking aside a pebble as she walked, Frank's face lingering and swimming in her mind, refusing to part from her thoughts. When he had looked at her, it was as if every ounce of breath was taken from her lungs floating into the air like midnight smoke. When he'd kissed her, it felt like the whole world stopped, leaving just them. It had never been that way with Ned! And when Frank had held her face between his hands, it felt like he was untying all of her knots. Holding her for eternity in the arms she'd grown accustomed to over the years.

She wasn't…_Am I falling in love with Frank? Oh, God, I just can't! _Nancy thought desperately, toying with a lock of auburn hair desperately, biting her lip in anguish. _This wasn't supposed to happen! Damn it, Frank! This is what falling in love is like, like a story you never want to end, a book you can't put down, one that, when you finish, you tell yourself that I wish I hadn't read it, so that I could read it again for the first time and experience it all over again for the first time. _

If she was, in fact, developing feelings for Frank Hardy like she suspected she might be, she was extremely conflicted. Her love for both men felt like charging horses pulling in opposite directions. She could no more abandon one than she could a lost child. Both men were important, both a part of her soul. The only option then was to find a way for them to charge in the same direction, to find a way to have them pull together. Problem is, she didn't know how to make that happen.

For so long had Nancy longed for it, and now she couldn't bear to lose it—lose the thing that made her feel so complete, and now she wasn't even sure who she was supposed to be with. Ned, the man who had held her heart and kept it safe for the last several years. Or Frank, the one around whom she felt she could truly be her real self, she didn't have to tone down who she was or hide from Frank.

Putting aside thoughts of Frank Hardy for now, with each stride Nancy Drew took, her mind became clearer, more resolute as if the growing physical distance between her and Frank had now become an emotional chasm. As the late afternoon sun caressed her skin, promising new dawn, a new beginning, she entombed her memories of their kiss in a thick wall of frozen ice. Then, abruptly pausing to close her eyes and take in a deep breath of dewy air, she steeled herself to only think of her future from here on in. A future she would mold, build, and direct. Then with each stride after that, she felt more in charge, in command of her own mind, body, and soul. She was a woman walking into her own destiny, a destiny that lay square in her own hands.

The falling leaves from the trees fluttered down, sparse in the cool mid-autumn air. In other places, perhaps they were a feast of colors as Halloween drew closer—enough to feed the soul as well as the eyes. Nancy had read about leaves like that, she imagined them like a garish quilt over the ground. Perhaps if she saw them, she'd be poetical too, but the leaves in the park were all brown now. Not like the ones that had been at the Harvest Festival. The only difference between now and winter was the crunch underfoot and soon even that will be dampened by the rainfalls.

"Penny for your thoughts, Miss Drew. I've got time, so do you! You shouldn't have snuck off like that, Nancy. I've been looking for you! You owe me one!" spoke up a man's voice, startling Nancy out of her musings and causing her to let out an involuntary squeal, jumping as she turned around to guiltily face the police lieutenant who was supposed to be her partner in solving this bombing case.

The police officer stood on the corner of the park next to Nancy in the growing mist of the afternoon as the sun faded behind the clouds. Luke Perry was the very epitome of authority with his gun hanging idly at his hip, the street reflected in his over large sunglasses, a lock of curly brown hair hanging near his eyes that he brushed away irritably in annoyance as he glared at her. But she couldn't help but imagine that he must be sweating in that crisp blue uniform of his. Perhaps as he stood there, he was planning nothing more than what donut he would have later in the afternoon and whether to have a latte or an Americano while he listened to Chief McGinnis bitch and moan about quitting his smoking habit for the seventh time that day.

Nancy managed a wry smile. "I hope you're good to sit for an hour, lieutenant," she teased, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. "I have a lot of thoughts and no one willing to listen, it seems," she sighed sadly.

"I am," he said firmly, his kind eyes alight with a new intensity that the young detective hadn't seen before in the young police officer. He checked his watch and removed his police hat to scratch at an itch in his hair. "Are you hungry, Miss Drew?" he asked suddenly, surprising her. She'd fully been expecting him to chastise her for sneaking off without him.

"A little," she confessed, feeling her stomach let out a low rumble, agreeing with her admission. She smiled. "Have you eaten?"

"No," he said, shooting her a crooked smile. "I missed lunch thanks to looking for you," he laughed, grinning at the guilty look on her face. "Relax, Nancy," he teased. "You can make it up to me by joining me for a late lunch. I won't tell the chief," he joked.

"Where do you want to go?" she asked, hoisting her bag from her lap and standing from the park bench she'd been occupying. "I know a few good cafes and restaurants, depends on what you're in the mood for."

"Mimi's?" offered Officer Perry, noticing the young detective's pleasant smile at the suggestion, a faraway look in her eyes that he liked and desperately wished he could see more of. The young woman had stars in her eyes. "I take it by the look on your face that place holds a special place in your heart?"

"Hmm?" she asked as they started to walk, seeming to jolt out of her thoughts. "Oh, yes," she said, a little distractedly as they made their way to the small café and sat at one of the outside tables underneath an umbrella. "I—I've been meaning to ask you, Luke, the finger…" She hesitated, not sure if she wanted to know the answer. "It's not Ned's, is it?"

The lieutenant shook his head as their waiter came out, menus in hand. "No, thank God for that," he muttered lowly, so as to not startle their waiter with their topic of conversation. "The finger belonged to a man named Dennis Gunther, recently deceased during the attack," he snapped irately, not wanting to talk about it to her.

"What'll you have?" asked their waiter, a young man by the name of Anthony in a pair of crisp black jeans and the café's T-shirt.

"Order whatever you like, I insist, you're looking much too peaky, Miss Drew, you need to eat more or you'll waste away, Nance," joked Luke over the rim of his menu, noticing the light blush speckling across her cheeks. "I'll have the supreme, please. The works."

"Yes, sir," he said nodding, turning to Nancy, who averted the waiter's gaze, seeming distracted. Luke furrowed his brows and frowned, studying her movements. "And for you, miss?" the waiter asked cordially.

"One of the toasted sandwiches, please," she said shyly. "I've never had your sandwiches that Mimi's seems to be getting famous for, so surprise me with whatever one you think is best," she joked, handing their menus back to Anthony, who smiled at the redhead and nodded.

"You got it, ma'am. In that case, I'd recommend the tuna melt. You'll enjoy it. Food will be out shortly!" His piece said, he grabbed their menus and turned to go, leaving Officer Perry and Nancy alone to resume their conversation about Ned.

"Thank God," whispered Nancy, breathing a sigh of relief, letting her shoulders relax. She was surprised, as she hadn't realized she'd been so tense. "I—I knew it wasn't Ned's!"

"We'll find your boyfriend, Miss Drew," the young officer reassured firmly, though there was no mistaking the jealousy in his tone. He coughed, hoping she hadn't noticed it, though the look in her eyes told him that she had.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, she poked at the straw in her glass of ice water as she scrutinized the officer's behavior any time Ned was mentioned. "You don't like Ned, do you?"

"I…" His voice trailed off. Should I tell her? "I think that you are too good for him, Miss Drew," he confessed, surprised to hear himself admit it at last. "I don't know why, but I do."

Nancy frowned. "Ned makes me laugh, that's why I love him. He accepts me for who I am, not who everybody else wants me to be," she said, beginning to preen unnecessarily at her nails, which were already practically cut down to the quick, Luke observed, amused at her.

The officer watched as the beautiful redhead's smile faltered slowly and turned to a grimace.

"Uh oh," he said kindly, wanting to steer the conversation away from his feelings. "I know that look," he said, eyeing Nancy carefully. "That's not all. There's something else, isn't there? You can be honest with me, Miss Drew. I consider you a friend, after all," he said.

Nancy fiddled with her napkin, unaware that she'd begun shredding into tiny pieces until Luke promptly yanked it away from her, annoyed, handing her another one after a moment. "Thanks," she mumbled. "There's…something else," she admitted, not sure how much she could or should divulge to the cop. She glanced warily up at Luke. "Off the record?" she asked, teasing slightly.

"Of course," he said, his expression solemn as he took a sip of coffee and made a face, adding more sweeteners to it. "What you say here will not leave this café table, Nan, I swear it."

"One of my friends, he…we kissed," she confessed, sighing as she brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, and opened her mouth to speak further but was interrupted by the arrival of Anthony carrying a heavily laden tray holding their food. "Jesus!" she exclaimed, forgetting herself for a moment.

Luke's sandwich he'd ordered was some kind of Scooby-Doo sandwich, fit for Shaggy and Scooby. The filling was layers of cheese and ham with lettuce and tomato. Oozing from the sides was copious amounts of mayonnaise. It looked like you'd need a flip-top head to eat it, or else you'd need to dislocate your jaw like a snake. Nancy's sandwich, on the other hand, was much smaller and smelled divine, making her mouth water as the waiter set her plate in front of her. "Thanks," she said gratefully. The toasties were eat-right-away food, too good not to eat while hot. So much of their appeal was in that comforting warmth, combined with a strong savory flavor they were what crisp fall afternoons were made for.

"You got it," chirped Anthony, taking a moment to refill both their water glasses and placing their check on the table for when they were ready to check out. "Enjoy!" he called out behind him as he left.

"Thanks!" hollered Luke in between bites.

Nancy took a moment to let her sandwich cool before taking a bite, allowing the taste of the olives, mushrooms, tuna, and cheese to fill her mouth and settle on her tongue, calming her. "I…anyway, this friend and I, we—we kissed, and now I'm…well…not sure how I feel," she confessed, her voice pained as she looked away for a moment, picking at her sandwich. She shoved it away, making a mental note to ask the waiter for a box.

"You're worried everything will change now," said Luke softly, no trace of joking in his tone as he devoured his sandwich. Nancy tried her hardest to hide her disgust at the size of the sandwich. The thing was a monster. The foot-long sub was so stuffed to the brim with fillings that they tumbled out as Luke bit into the sandwich. Despite the mess, he was the very picture of bliss right down to the last piece of lettuce, much to Nancy's amazement. Then he scooped the dropped pieces off his paper napkin and devoured those too.

Nancy crinkled her nose in disgust and pretended not to notice it as she sipped her water through her straw. "You're right."

Luke wiped his mouth with his napkin and studied the young detective for a second. The woman sitting across from him never ceased to amaze him. He had pestered her for the last two years to join their forces as an officer, eventually making her way to a full detective, maybe even homicide, but she staunchly refused his suggestions every single time. "Things will work themselves out eventually, Miss Drew," he heard himself saying before he even realized he had said it. "They always do. And if nothing else, at least now you know how this friend feels. Do you feel the same way for him as he seems to for you?" he asked, his interest piqued.

"Maybe. I hope they will. If not, well I don't know what will happen, and I don't like to think it," she said, sounding surprised, regarding Officer Luke Perry in silence for a moment. It was odd for her to make a connection so fast, to give her trust so easily, tentative though it was. There was something in the way Luke smiled, warmth, genuineness, a softness of spirit that she just couldn't pass up. Luke listened like he was absorbing her words, not simply getting his 'turn' over and done with so he could return to some other topic. The more time she spent around the young lieutenant, the more her spirit lifted and the more optimistic she felt about her chances of rescuing Ned. The police officer was the new friend Nancy had needed for so long. He brought calmness to her soul.

"You hide a lot, don't you?" asked Luke.

Nancy swallowed her water and almost choked on an ice cube, caught off guard by his question, the abrasiveness and sereneness of it as she turned to take in the expression on her new friend's face. His gaze was steady, unabashed and unwavering as he looked at her. Nancy released a short sharp breath. This wasn't even fourth date material, and here this lieutenant was, asking her questions and wanting to play see-through-the-skin. "What do you mean?" she asked nervously, timid.

The police officer paused before answering, taking another sip of coffee, his tone dropping to a softer octave. "Everything you say is a mask, but each thing gives a clue to the real you, the one hiding behind the shy smile and untied hair. You could just cut it out, Nancy, and let me in. You know, let me into that fragile genius head of yours," Luke teased. He continued to just watch her, his eyes still like headlights on full beam, expression serene.

Nancy smiled, unable to hold it back any longer. She couldn't help it when she was around Luke, his horrible singing or not.

"I'd like that," she said shyly, returning the police officer's grin and allowing him to walk her back to the station after he'd paid their bill, their leftover boxes in hand and talking among themselves as he escorted her back to the station, where she would continue her efforts to rescue Ned. She had to get him back.


	13. Chapter 13: Fallout

The sky plunged into an ominous darkness, awakening predatory creatures out of their lair. Ned Nickerson jumped as a distant bloodcurdling howl made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He watched anxiously as the woods on the outskirts of River Heights slowly transformed into a lethal playground. Tree branches stretched out in front of him, forming a cavern of distorted limbs that seemed to reach out and grab his flesh. A vile pain spread through his chest like a deadly infection and his lungs beseeches him to stop walking. Ned's knees felt like rubber after constantly running for hours and now he gulped selfish breaths of air. Helpless, he walked on, his feet dragging noisily on the carpet of lifeless leaves, each step triggering a rush of pain in his chest. In spite of his feeble condition, his lips curled into a smile as the realization that he had escaped finally struck him. He felt smug at his little victory. _I really made it_, he thought, ecstatic. Ned was free from the filthy clutches of that freak who'd held him hostage for over two days. He was finally going home to Nancy, a home still thriving, still breathing without restrictions, or so he hoped. Ned's small grin faltered as he remembered the photographs the Watcher had shown him earlier, taunting him, trying to get his spirit to break. The Watcher had taunted Ned, tossing aside a few photographs into his lap before releasing. Ned glanced at them and immediately felt sick, his blood turning to ice. He hadn't wanted to believe it. Not his Nancy…He didn't want to believe. He wouldn't.

"Believe it, kid," his captor had sneered behind his mask. "I took the pictures myself," he laughed.

Frank and Nancy locked in an embrace, and she, looking like she was…enjoying it. He couldn't believe it. "Somebody must have made her do it. Frank, that son of a bitch!" he bellowed. "I'll kill him!" he yelled.

The Watcher continued to torment Ned, saying how Nancy was too good for him and she deserved better. The knife the captor held in his hand gleamed in the light. The knife sat precariously against Ned's skin, soft enough not to pierce his neck, but hard enough to enforce the intended message. The harsh metal should have been cold and raw against his bare skin, but his numb body could not feel anything except for the excruciating pain of Nancy's betrayal. His throat and held in a silver grasp at the mercy of the one who called himself Watcher, all he could do was stare lifelessly up into the man's cold eyes that held the blade and a terrifying coldness he had never seen before.

Trembling, he tipped his chin up into the sharpened edge, tempting the other man to end his anguish, half hoping that he would just do it already. A small stream of blood trickled from the feeble cut he could not feel, the Watcher did not remove his eyes from Ned's, a cruel smile stretched out across gaunt features. Ned's frozen heart shifted at the sight of his merciless gaze, his legs almost failing beneath him. His steadfast grip on the weapon shifted, causing more crimson liquid to flow from the raw wound he had inflicted, and then, the Watcher in Ned's eyes gave the other man pause. Raw unbridled anger at the woman who broke his heart. That seemed to goad his kidnapper into letting him go, but Ned knew the truth. This was all just another one of his damn games, and he would be caught. Still, he would try until his last dying breath.

Even if he was to die tonight, he had to see her.

_Nancy_, he thought, anguished. _How could you? It would have been kinder just to kill me. I wish that he would have. Maybe after tonight you'll get your wish, to be with Frank, just like you wanted. I see it now… _

After what felt like hours of struggling to walk, the old River Heights Police Station came into his view. _Nancy's in there_, he thought, feeling a hot burning rage begin to well from deep within his stomach. It was time he learned the truth from her at last. _Does she love me? Or does she love Frank? _

* * *

When Ned first came into view, Nancy did not recognize her boyfriend, he was too far away and his gait was all wrong. He walked like a scarecrow more than a man and all lopsided at that. As he neared, a fuming expression in his eyes, her heart fell right through her sandals. He was more purple than brown. His eye was swollen, how he was even able to see, Nancy could not even begin to fathom it. His face still bore traces of congealed blood and his clothes were an utter mess. Then he tried to say something, to speak her name, his cracked lips failing at the first syllable, but he did not need to. Nancy was already running towards him, screaming for someone to call an ambulance. As he collapsed from fatigue and Nancy cradled his head in her hands, Nancy found herself trying hard not to stare at his nose but she kept finding her eyes had diverted to it. One moment, they were obediently on his red-rimmed eyes and the next, they were resting on the bloody mess that had been a perfectly ordinary nose only a day before, so ordinary in fact that she could not recall what it had looked like.

"Shh," she soothed, caressing his cheek, aware that she was staining her palms crimson with his blood, but she didn't care. Tears welled up in her eyes. "I thought…I thought I'd never see you again, Ned. Don't try to speak, you're hurt. We'll get help."

Ned coughed, his coughing a horrible rattling sound that was an affront to her ears. What he said next surprised Nancy. "Don't…touch…me," he snarled through gritted teeth, clenching his eyes shut as a spasm of pain rippled through his entire body.

Nancy froze, not sure where this sudden hostile attitude was coming. "Ned, what are you talking about?" she whispered, forcing a smile onto her face as she hurriedly waved the paramedics over when they arrived. "You're not in this alone, Ned…"

"I know how much you enjoy playing Florence Nightingale, Nancy, but I can take care of myself!" he shouted, his face draining of color as the paramedics gently lifted him on a stretcher to take him to the general hospital.

"I—I know you're upset, Ned, it's understandable, after what unspeakable horrors you must have been through, Ned, but what matters now is you're safe!"

The detective could only watch, heartbroken, as an uncharacteristic look of rage crossed her boyfriend's features. "The Watcher came after me and I did what I had to in order to protect myself, so I could come home to see you!" he shouted, angrily swatting away a paramedic as they knelt to help him as they lifted him into the back of an ambulance. "But you don't believe me; you'd rather believe anyone else but me!"

Nancy glanced around nervously at a few of the officers and the other back up receptionist, a kind woman by the name of Anna, watching their fight, interested and pretending not to notice at the same time. "People are watching us, Ned," she whispered softly, biting her lip and fighting back tears. "Can we talk about this at home after you get out of the hospital?" she pleaded, not wanting to make a scene.

Ned stared at Nancy as though she had slapped him. "_Home_?" he asked incredulously, a look of anger and bewilderment on his face. "We have no home, Nancy Drew." He let out a startled shout as one of the medics injected him with morphine and a sedative.

Nancy forced a tiny half smile onto her mouth, not wanting to believe what her boyfriend was saying.

"Okay, what are you…what are you saying, Ned? You know, you still have a lot of drugs in your system, a—and you're not thinking straight after what that man did to you, so why don't we just talk about—"

"NO!" Ned shouted, his face red now as his shout lingered in the hallway of the police station. Nancy was hardly aware of Officer Perry and Chief McGinnis coming to stand behind her, each one placing a supportive hand on either side of her shoulders. "No, no, my mind has never been clearer than it is right now! I have put up with years of you taking someone else's side over mine. Frank, Nancy?" he bellowed. "Really, Nancy? I realize now, you just don't trust me and you never have, Nancy Drew."

"Of course I trust you, Ned, I trust you with my life, Ned, I—I'm your fiancé!" she begged, her tears welling in the corner of her eyes. "Please don't…"

"And that's what I don't understand!" he shouted. "Why the hell did you even date me all these years?"

"Ned, settle down," ordered Chief McGinnis gruffly.

"We were just leaving," spoke up Nancy quietly, not wanting to draw any more attention to themselves.

"No, I'm not going anywhere with you, Nancy!" snapped Ned, wrenching away from Nancy's touch.

"Come on, Ned, please don't throw away what we have, what you and I share is special, we can…we can make this work, please, don't," she cried.

"No," he answered, his tone flat and emotionless. "I am done trying to make this work Nancy Drew. Asking you to marry me was the biggest mistake of my life. I'm done," he growled angrily, not saying another word as the paramedics finally shut the door to their ambulance, their sirens penetrating the otherwise silent evening air as they took Ned away.

Brick by brick as she watched the ambulance turn the corner, her walls came tumbling down. As she ran from the precinct and towards the park, she was aware of Officer Perry, Frank and Bess calling her name, but she did not stop until she reached the lake and collapsed onto a nearby bench, the tears in her eyes turning her surroundings into a whirlwind of gray and yellow. She didn't give a damn who saw. Nancy just broke down. Her sobs punched through, ripping through her muscles, bones, and guts. She buried her head in her hands as her life crumbled in her fingertips. She was hollow. Her heart felt like it was being yanked in and out of her chest, pulling back in like a yo yo. Over and over. In and out. Then suddenly, Frank and Bess were there, patting her on the shoulders and sitting next to her, reaching into her hollowness to pull her out and bring her back. Her hands open and closed, rhythmically clenching as if there could be some violent solution to his pain if only she could find it. Ned was out of her life, and it was all her fault. She never should have allowed Frank to kiss her, but was done was done, and maybe this was for the best. If she stayed with Ned, she would have only gotten him killed. This way, he would be safer, but she could not deny that it did not hurt. When Nancy cried it was never a trickle and it never started in her eyes. It began as a feeling in her chest and a sadness in her brain and heart. The leaking water was only a blessed release, it's one way her body chose to cope and she guessed it was a way to communicate her feelings, whether she wanted it or not. The darkness of the night seemed to swirl around her form, tendrils of inkling bleak reminders of her solitude, despite Bess and Frank being there with her. Her head swam in the fire burning inside, the only smoldering embers of a time when Ned had been with her, around her, and in her. Now, the void had been slowly filled with a cold, howling storm of fear that refused to ever let up. She was completely and utterly alone in her mind, body, soul, and most of all, entirely alone in the world. Ned was gone. Because of her. She'd never felt more alone in her entire life than she did right now in this moment.


	14. Chapter 14: Payback

A/N: Slight smut warning ahead, this chapter is kind of steamy, so if this isn't your thing, you can bypass it!

* * *

Once Bess had left to go give Joe and George an update and check on Ned at the hospital, it was just Nancy and Frank alone on the park bench. They stared at each other in an odd way, as if it were a silent argument. Their glances battled each other, until tears arose, and they both found themselves crying. "Why did you do it?" Nancy asked, her tears rolling down with the same quietness. She glanced down at the simple gold band she wore on her finger, took it off, fingered it lovingly in her palm for a moment, before slipping it in Frank's jeans pocket. He sighed, wiping his own tears, before rising from the park bench and wandering towards the lake with a curious slowness. His hand was curled around his stomach and he staggered in mental and physical pain. Nancy felt an urge to do something, to comfort him, but also as much as to take comfort herself.

Before she could even fathom what was happening, in a moment, she pressed her lips against his, felt his body loosen and his arms touch her shoulders. "It's payback, Frank Hardy, is what it is," she whispered, chuckling beneath her salty tears, that she angrily brushed away with a flick of her hand. Then they hovered by the lake bed, soundless for a long time, simply feeling each other's presence.

Nancy's gaze drifted downwards towards Frank's arm, the one covered in little angry red scars. His heart skipped a beat. She did not react. _Did she know already?_ Then, she spoke to him at last. "How long?" It was all she asked. Frank ignored the question. She didn't press him for an answer, which surprised him a little. "You know," she said, tracing the line of one of his scars with a gentle, trembling finger that sent a tremor down his spine. "Your heart's intentions show you where you're going and the physical scars show where you've been." Frank turned, and perhaps for the first time, and really, truly looked at Nancy Drew, the famous detective.

Her willowy frame. Her beautiful auburn hair, those tantalizing blue eyes of hers, oceans deep and clear, like the Caribbean Sea in summer. In her, Frank saw beauty. Her eyes were a rich blue that stole your breath while looking through your soul. Her hair was like an obsidian waterfall that tumbled to her shoulders in vibrant thick auburn locks. Beautiful. Her hands were strong yet gentle at the same time.

And her mouth…oh, how he wanted to kiss her mouth. And so he did. And he loved it. Frank loved the way her small body melted into his, the way their lips fit together like two puzzle pieces. The way she relented as he played with her hair and held her tighter and tighter. When they broke away after what felt like an eternity in heaven, if such a place existed, she looked at him, swirls of emotions dancing in her eyes. Lust, desire, hurt, confusion, anger, sadness.

"I—I'm sorry about Ned," Frank apologized, sounding pained, turning away. "I never meant to…for things to turn out the way they did, Nan. I'll understand if you never want to see me again," he croaked weakly.

Nancy moved her head closer to Frank. He stood frozen, from both fear and excitement, and shame at what they were doing. He couldn't…he couldn't take advantage of his oldest friend like this, not when she was going through so much, a breakup, a stalker.

She leaned in, so her forehead rested against his. Though her mind was screaming at her this was wrong, she knew she needed the comfort. So did Frank. Even if it was just the once, it was what she needed in the moment. They closed their eyes. "Thank you," she said in barely more than a whisper.

"For what?" he replied, his voice low and husky.

"For being you." Her voice wavered, exhilarated from the tension between the two of them. "You accepted me for who I am, not who everybody else wants me to be, Frank," she whispered, her voice cracking a little.

Unable to contain himself anymore, Frank held Nancy's head in his hands and pulled her into a fiery and passionate kiss. Her hands worked their way around his body, feeling each crevasse, each line along his perfect physique. In that split second before his touch, every nerve in Nancy's body and brain became electrified. It was the anticipation of being together in a way that was more than words, in a way that was so completely tangible, it made sense.

Frank does not speak a word as he dragged Nancy by the hand and did not speak again until they reached his house. Joe was still at the hospital with George and Ned, so they would not be interrupted. He yanked her, almost forcefully, up the stairs to his bedroom, slamming the door behind them.

With the door closed, every pretense fell. The facade the two of them showed the world melted away and all they wanted was to be together in the only way they knew how. Every one of their kisses had a raw intensity—their heart rates even faster. Then before Nancy knew how it happened, their clothes were off, their skin moving softly together, like the finest of silks. She felt his hand enter from below, moving fast, their tongues in a kiss, and then Frank was inside, changing her breathing with every thrust, hearing her moans timed to his body as he moved. Then all at once, he stopped, his hands light, using his fingers, watching Nancy's reaction, feeling how her legs moved, watching her body writhe beneath him. He told he was going to make her beg for it, and she groaned, unable to articulate a coherent response.

_If it's begging he wants, he's going to have to stop long enough for my brain to start working again first… _

Her hand alighted on Frank's face, moving down past his collarbone. Already his brain was on fire; Nancy was his angel, the angel with the fingertips of flames.

In this moment, he could tell she loved him with her eyes as much as her body, their souls mingling together in the quiet moment. The bedroom already felt warm. It was hard for him to hold back, to make the moment last, caught between the intoxication of their climax and extending a moment they never wanted to end. He could stay like this forever.


	15. Chapter 15: The Watcher

He had not anticipated he would run into his target here as the sun set below the horizon, but it made it that much better for him. The Watcher needed to talk to Nancy anyways, what better way to do that than when she was alone? It was perfect, really. It truly was. Suppressing his urge to erupt into wicked laughter, the man approached Nancy, who was sitting alone on a park bench. The Watcher had followed Miss Drew after ensuring he grabbed Mr. Nickerson again after being released from the hospital as he began the walk home. Surprisingly, the man had not put up much of a fight this time. The man's spirit was broken, and he seemed almost willing to go with him. He had followed the young detective after she left Frank Hardy's house.

"Don't turn around or look round," he warned, the earpiece he wore around his left ear disguising his voice, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled tight to conceal his facial features. "It's been a while, dear. I thought I'd check in, see how you were doing, love."

"Who are you?" Nancy Drew asked tersely, her posture rigid and staff, her back muscles tensing. "What do you want with me? What have you done with Ned! Let him go, he's done nothing wrong!" she demanded, her voice warbling only slightly.

The slightest indication of fear. It will do. He sneered and admired from behind how her red hair cascaded in gentle layers to her collarbones, the autumn breeze tousling it slightly into gentle curls, wafting the intoxicating scent of whatever shampoo she used his way. He fought back the fire in his loins and continued. "Don't worry your pretty little head about Mr. Nickerson, dear," he taunted mockingly, placing a black gloved hand on her shoulder. She flinched and shirked away from his touch. He frowned. No matter. The girl would see the truth soon enough. Time to tip the scales in his favor. "I'm sure after your little spat in the police station just now, he won't want anything to do with you after tonight, now, will he, Nancy Drew? I think not, and then you're all _mine_," he teased, tossing aside a couple of Polaroid photos into Nancy's lap. The Watcher heard her audible gasp of surprise as she glanced over the pictures of her and the Hardy fellow's kiss that he had managed to snap earlier. "It's a necessary evil, I'm afraid."

"Why are you doing this?" Her voice was shaking. "Whatever grudge you hold is with me, not Ned. And how did you know about our...disagreement? And you should know, Ned doesn't want anything to do with me anymore, so whatever sick goal you have in breaking up Ned and I, you've achieved it. I hope you're proud of yourself." The bitterness in her voice was unmistakable. "If you think I'll willingly go with you, you're dead wrong."

"On the contrary," the Watcher growled, lifting a lock of her hair in his hands and playing with it. The young detective stiffened, but gave no indication that she was otherwise afraid. "He has everything to do with it. Mr. Nickerson does not deserve someone like you, my dear. I aim to make you see that tonight. And as for how I heard," he paused, rolling his eyes and scoffing. "I think the whole damn city heard your argument, Miss Drew, Mr. Nickerson's voice is quite powerful. The sound carried," he snarled.

"What are you punishing him for? He's done nothing wrong." Nancy Drew was shouting now, letting her emotions get the better of her. The Watcher was enjoying this, perhaps a little too much. He glanced around, making sure they were still alone. Good.

"Ned comes from wealth," he growled, still remembering the gold ring he'd found in Ned's pocket. He should have chucked the damn thing in the river when he had a chance. If he could find it, he just might. She deserved better. Perhaps later tonight, he would. "He wasn't thinking things through when he bought your ring," he hissed through clenched teeth, wishing he could be facing her from the front so he could relish the fear in her eyes. "He should have given you the world, you deserve _so_ much better than that. I will have you know the ring he bought you is a twenty-dollar ring out of a vending machine, lovely."

What Nancy said next made him want to scream. "You're a liar! I know you're doing this just to spite me! He didn't think I could see it, but we were window shopping one day, and I stopped to admire it in a shop window," she explained, her voice surprisingly calm despite the immense fear she was experiencing. "He tried to stay in front, but I could see his reflection in the window. Ned was working hard to memorize the exact ring I wanted and I knew he'd come back for it later. Moreover, you are wrong, whoever you are! Ned could have given me nothing and I still would have married him!" she shouted, her knuckles white as she gripped the park bench, whether out of anger or out of fear, he didn't know, nor did he care now. She was forcing his hand and if he didn't act fast, Nancy Drew would draw attention to their little meeting and that was simply a risk he could not take. Normally, he abhorred violence against a woman, but there were times like now where it was necessary. Men like the Watcher were a ticking time bomb. Any provocation, no matter how small or insignificant and his temper would blow. His signature move was a solid upper cut to the jaw.

He let out a guttural growl from the back of his throat and he could see Nancy from the side stiffen and seem to freeze from her spot on the park bench.

There was a cold burning to the man's rage that scared her, an ice that scared Nancy, and she did not scare easily. The behavior that Ned's captor was exhibiting now was how men like him showed hatred, dominance, and imparted fear. In one stride, the man dared to face her in front of her at last, and though the hoodie of his black sweatshirt concealed most of his face, he was in her space, and she knew a kiss wasn't coming next. For a man, he would have his fist closed already. For her, it was an open hand.

"Wait!" she pleaded, raising her hands to shield her face. Her pleas for him to stop seemed to reach him, and he hesitated. This was it. No going back. "I'll go with you," Nancy said, her voice cracking but she bit her tongue and fought the urge to break into tears. "Do whatever you want to me, just take me. Let Ned go, but I want to see him first, to see if he's alive."

The Watcher hesitated, his violent streak temporarily halted. "You would…come with me?" he asked, dumfounded and seeming to be at a loss for words.

"Yes," breathed Nancy, her voice barely above a whisper. "But only if you let Ned Nickerson free. And I want to see him before we…before we leave."

_Could it really be that simple?_ But what if this was all an elaborate trap? He wouldn't put it past her. It was one of the things he loved about Nancy so much.

"I don't think so, love," he jeered, picking up a rock he'd found, raising it over his head and bringing it down hard on the back of Nancy Drew's skull.

Nancy had expected he would say as much. Her eyesight blurred, but not because tears were welling up. Everything became fuzzy, and then she saw nothing at all. Her consciousness was floating through an empty space filled with a thick static. Throughout the inky space, her heartbeats pounded loudly, echoing in her ears, alongside fading pleas for help as she felt her body being hoisted into a pair of strong arms—the one who called himself Watcher.

Feeling in her body drained away until all was black.

* * *

Lana Graham normally wasn't one to take advice from an amateur detective, let alone Nancy Drew of all people, but this was the warehouse she had texted her about. Warehouse 13 at the harbor. The corrugated iron roof was domed some twenty-five feet above her and her assistant, Eve, as they sat in their car, doing surveillance, like a shanty-town cathedral. At the other end were the packed sacks of grain ready for distribution onto the boats and trucks.

The reporter hated doing surveillance, no matter the story. It was so boring; it redefined the meaning of the very word. Time seemed to flow in their rental car like cement. She checked her cell for the time. A minute had passed since she had last checked an hour ago, or so it seemed, and now it was eleven.

Another hour and Nancy was supposed to arrive. Sitting here with nothing to stare at but a warehouse with chipped cream paint was excruciatingly dull and there was no telling when Lana would be called. It was so pointless too. Go in, catch this asshole, and get out alive. It seemed so easy, gather evidence, but it never was. She began to drift into an unpleasant thought process, or was it paranoid fantasy? So hard to tell and the reporter didn't care. It helped to pass the time and she wasn't one for entertaining herself with optimism. Better to be prepared, right?

The night was as old as the coffee in her travel mug. Lana tapped its murky surface to break the thickening skin and watched the new gap grow. The brown frigid drink dripped from her finger, the ripples spreading toward the rim in ever larger circles. She knew she was spoiled, so used to the finest beans, always freshly brewed and served with half-and-half. Lana still craved a subtle undertone of hazelnut and her cup to be a festive Halloween color with cardboard around it to protect her fingers from the heat. Instead, it is this instant muck, this garbage, served in warm polystyrene—depression served without a smile. It suits this place though; it matches the grim mood of her assignment, it was as unwelcoming as the flickering streetlights above the warehouse. The only thing alive in the car was Lana, Eve, and the ticking of Eve's wristwatch.

Lana briefly wondered if she and Eve had died some time ago from the boredom. There was nothing _here_.

She groaned and tossed aside her notepad, rolling her eyes as her assistant picked it up and smirked at her doodles. "Nice doodles," she teased sarcastically, pointing to the one of the wino urinating on the docks from earlier. About the most exciting thing to happen to them in hours, hell, even days, really.

"We've been out here for hours," complained Lana, watching out of the corner of her eye as Eve sipped on a Frappuccino through a straw. "There's nothing."

This routine mission was feeling less "routine" all the time. The complex that was so archaic above ground has given way to state of the art equipment and the insistence for someone of Lana's expertise was becoming more apparent. If she wasn't such an idealist, she would turn around right now. She could not think of a paycheck high enough to make her want to find out what acts of terror was going on behind the metallic doors of Warehouse 13.

The adrenaline floods her system as if it was on an intravenous drip—right into her blood at full pelt as she watched a mysterious figure carry something. Lana thought her heart would explode and her eyes were wide, letting in every ounce of the streetlights. Her body either wanted to run fast for the hills or work to find weaponry, but instead, the reporter stayed right where she was, in the safety of the car. Sometimes freezing is the best of the choices, and there were only three in this moment. She wanted to quell the hammering in her chest, but there's no way that will happen now. She didn't regret it though, coming here to the warehouse, catching a killer.

If they succeeded, this truly would be the story of a century. How come all those spies in the movies weren't ever scared? Lana found herself wondering. Maybe they were, maybe they were scared all the time, perhaps that is what bravery really was. Her adrenaline surges so fast as the skeleton man comes back out, just standing there. Lana's adrenaline surged so fast, she thought she was going to be sick. She can taste the saliva thickening her mouth to a rancid paste, coating her tongue, making it hard to swallow let alone even breathe. At some point, she'll have to move. "Hang on," said Eve suddenly, setting her drink back in her cup holder, reaching for a pair of binoculars. "Oh, no," she moaned, passing them off to Lana. "Looks like whoever it is has Nancy. There's no mistaking that red hair. It's her, all right."

"SHHH!" hissed Lana, silencing her assistant and slinking further down into her seat to avoid being seen. "Don't let him see you!" she snapped angrily.

Getting the hint, Eve slunk down into her seat, still occasionally peering over the dashboard behind her black aviator sunglasses, a quirk that made Lana bite her tongue hard enough to draw blood. It was the dead of night, no need for that much secrecy.

"What should we do?" whispered Eve, sounding terrified. "I'm not dying tonight for Nancy Drew, Lana, don't ask me to go in there with that—that freak running around!" she whisper hissed angrily.

"You won't be going anywhere," snapped Lana, growing irate as she gathered her purse and her cell phone, opening the car door once the suspect had gone back into the warehouse. "Stay here with the car; I'm going to find out who this man is. He blew up a bank and a gas station. He killed dozens, injured so many more, and he kidnapped Ned Nickerson and Nancy Drew. He has to be stopped."

The reporter paused, sensing the fear in her assistant's eyes. Eve had worked for her for the last ten years, and knew her perhaps better than she knew herself. One hand clutching tightly to her phone, she added almost as an afterthought, "If I'm not back in an hour, call Chief McGinnis," she ordered. Eve nodded mutely, her face drawn and ill.

Feeling the muscles in her face tense as Lana shifted her purse to her other arm, her phone clamped tightly in her hand, her thumb hovering over the record button, ready at a moment's notice to catch the perp's face on video at last, damning evidence would bring whoever this was down, at long last.

She had to do this. If not for Nancy, then for the story. This—this was the story of the year…

Lana Graham crept closer to the warehouse and gingerly opened the door, her breath held as she prayed it wouldn't make a noise. Darkness fell over the warehouse like a velvet blanket and all that was left was the low emergency lighting that threw long green beams across the polished floor. There wasn't even a breeze, but the slightest breath of moment as she entered the warehouse momentarily blocked the light, swirling mist with the soft blurred edges seeped through the pores in the wall. It was the sort of movement that was seen on the peripherals of vision, the kind that breeds rumors of monsters lurking in the dark dragging the shadows with them like coattails. Lana stopped in the shadows, hearing low murmurs in the distance, her body shifting back to solid in a dizzying rush of suddenly fleshed out bones and skin. She pressed back against a wall deeper in the darkness, where it would have been absolute save for the hue cast by the damn exit light.

Lana closed her eyes, focusing on where the pulsing was coming from. It was like ripples through the marble floor, vibrating under her feet, up through her bones and resting as a dull rumbling in her chest. But possibly the most unnervingly worrying thing about it was: it was calling to her.

The voices grew louder as she snuck forward, and she could see the brief outline of the hooded man, no longer donned in his skeleton costume, but a simple black hoodie and black jeans. Ned Nickerson was looking battered and broken but otherwise unharmed. "Missing finger, my ass," she whispered under her breath, watching as Ned shifted in his chair to reveal his hands—all his fingers intact.

Lana watched as the man—she still couldn't make out any details of his face—turned away from the young couple. She could see Nancy was just beginning to stir, and for whatever sick reason, Skeleton Man, as they had taken to dubbing their perp, was allowing the two to have a moment alone.

The reporter swore under her breath as the man disappeared. She couldn't risk stepping out into the light, it would give away her position to the killer.

Lana fumbled with her phone and cursed as her phone began to ring. "Damn it!" she hissed, cussing as the phone dropped. She bent to pick it up, and felt a hand on her shoulder. Her blood froze and she became stock-still. She closed her eyes, damning herself and cursing herself for being so careless.

The voice that spoke was using some kind of voice disguise device, something that could easily be modified by someone who knew what they were doing. "Did you really think I'd make it that easy for you, Graham?" The man's voice taunted and that was the last thing she heard before her world went black.

* * *

"Ned!" exclaimed Nancy wearily as she slowly regained control of her vision. She breathed a sigh of relief as she ran to him, cradling his head in her hands and pulled him close for a deep kiss. "I thought…I'd never see you again, and I thought you wouldn't want to see me after…everything, but oh my God, we have to get you out of here, Ned!" she wept, taking both his hands in hers and bringing them to her lips for a gentle kiss. "What has he done to you?" she demanded angrily, her blue eyes flashing as she assessed his injuries. Ned's left eye was swollen; she was sure he would not be seeing a thing out of it and would not for a while yet as it healed. His face still bore congealed blood and his clothes were a tattered, torn mess. He had been brutally tortured, beaten.

Then he tried to say her name, his cracked lips failing at the first syllable, but he didn't need to. Ned could never recall how long the beating had gone on for, only the final lick and the sound of the iron crowbar falling to the concrete. While the man had been torturing him, Nancy's face had been the one to bring him back, and he realized how wrong he was in letting her go. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was, that he hadn't meant a word of it. His face wasn't too bad, a cut above his eyebrow and a black eye, the scarlet blood flowing into his eyes. His body was damaged almost beyond the point at which recovery was possible. When Nancy frantically quit away what remained of his shirt to stare at the blooming purple patches on his chest, his injuries told of internal ruptures, likely organ damage. Nancy looked at Ned with an encouraging face, but her face grew ashen as she assessed the severity of his wounds. _He's dying_. Ned desperately tried to focus on her face. And all the while Nancy cried in the background like her heart had snapped in two, because it had. "Nan," he croaked out weakly, smiling as best as he could as she stopped him from reaching out his hand to caress her cheek, holding his hand against her cheek and closing her eyes. "I just…wanted to tell you I'm sorry. And that…I…love you, Nancy."

She didn't even have time to look up as the Watcher came back and shot Ned in the chest point black. Nancy screamed and cried. "NED! What have you done?" she bellowed, turning to face her captor, tears pouring down her face. Nancy turned back to stroke Ned's hair away from his forehead and kiss him one last time. He was cold, so _cold_. She couldn't hear the man's shouting over the sound of her own screams.

The cold look reflected on the man's face gave her the chills. His hands were tightly closed around the cold surface of the metallic gray gun. The man seemed to have no sense of humanity. His heart seemed to be made of stone as his lifeless eyes coldly regarded Ned's lifeless corpse on the ground at his feet.

Nancy didn't think she could ever forget the evil glint in the man's beady eyes behind the tin contraption he wore for a mask. The murderer smelled of danger.

_Blood_, she thought, and fought back the urge to be sick. Blood flowed, thick and sluggish, from the impact point where the bullet had entered Ned's chest. "He deserved it. Repeat it to yourself. He deserved it," growled the Watcher, his voice fuming beneath the disguise device as he paced the floor.

When Nancy said nothing, he grew angry.

"SAY IT!" he bellowed, his powerful voice echoing through the deserted warehouse. "NOW!"

Nevertheless, Nancy only had eyes for Ned, the man she would have married. His once handsome features were spotted with angry bruises, and death had frozen his face into a rigid snarl, a final, eternal lamentation to the heavens. She had never wanted to see Ned in death, just to recall his vibrant smile, but everyone said it was part of letting go. There was no grayness, simply a lack of the usual pink in his cheeks. Her hand found his without thinking and recoiled just as fast—so cold.

It wasn't him at all, just his body. He was gone. She expected to continue to cry, yet in truth, she felt nothing at all anymore, thanks to the man who had taken Ned Nickerson from her. Nancy felt as if she'd never feel anything again, all because of the Watcher.

"No," she hissed through clenched teeth, her grip tightening on Ned's body. "You might as well kill me now. You've taken everything from me, ruined my life! All that's left of me is scar tissue. But I think I have a right to know before I die tonight. Who are you? Who are you, really?" Nancy whispered, her jaw rooted as she cradled Ned's lifeless body as she sat frozen to her spot on the floor, unable and unwilling to move.

The man paused, seeming to hesitate for a moment, before peeling off the tin mask and letting it clatter to the floor with a loud, resonating clang. Nancy's blood turned to ice. "You," she whispered, her voice cracking. She found herself looking in the void, empty black eyes of Officer Luke Perry, now grinning wickedly as he cocked his gun and aimed it at Nancy. "Why? I—I trusted you, Luke! How?"

"Me," he answered simply, his lips curling into a sneer and his handsome features contorting into an ugly grimace. "It's amazing what a few pre-recorded messages will do, won't it, Miss Drew? When you think about it, it was the perfect cover, really. Think of it. Me, your partner, able to keep tabs on you all the way through. I told you Ned wasn't good enough for you! You should have listened to me and stayed the hell away from him, he might have lived otherwise! This, this is your fault. This whole time, you and I were partners the entire time you worked at the department, and Ned, you still care for him though he's _never_ been there for you, why…" he shouted, breathing heavily, holding her at gunpoint. "How could you do this?" he demanded, tears threatening to spill over in his eyes. "You…you're the only one who ever understood me, who might have ever loved me. Why? WHY?" A beat. His temper flared. "TELL ME!" he roared, his face growing red with anger.

Nancy's eyes darted wildly looking left and right for an escape. There was no way out. If she made a run for it, he would shoot her before she could even make it ten feet. "Just…just put the gun down, Luke, please," she pleaded, tears flowing in a constant stream down her face, her fingers clutching onto Ned's body in a vice grip, not wanting to let go. "I can still help you," she begged, still silently crying. "Let me help you, Luke. Let me save you," she whispered.

Luke sneered. "There's nothing left of me to save!" he shouted, his finger twitching on the trigger as he prepared to pull it.

Nancy closed her eyes, fully surrendering herself to accept her fate, but it never came. Shots fired out and she flinched, fully expecting a bullet to penetrate her skin between her eyes, but they didn't. She opened her eyes, horrified. Though the bullet had moved too fast to be seen, the blood poured out as if in slow motion. It came as a red fountain to spread over the concrete floor, every projection showing the struggle of Luke's heart. He raised his already blanched hand to his neck before falling to his knees, eyes wide. Before Nancy could reach him, he was slumped to the ground, pulse thread and weakening as the life force drained from him as the police officer bled to death.

Chief McGinnis and Carson stood there, the police chief looking disgusted at the fact that one of his officers, a man he'd trusted, had been the culprit all along, and Carson was looking relieved to see his daughter unharmed. His face drained of color when he saw his daughter's fiance laying lifeless in her arms. "Come away, Nan, you don't need to see this," he urged, whispering into her ear and prying her away from Ned. "Come away, come away, you don't need to be here right now, go with Frank, love," he whispered. "Take her! GET HER OUT OF HERE!" Carson shouted behind him to Frank, whose face was ashen with the shock at all of it.

Frank Hardy gestured Nancy outside, clutching onto her arm tightly and gently guided her to the ground outside their rental car when the last of her strength gave out. Nancy cried as if her brain were being shredded from the inside. Emotional pain flowed out of her every pore. She looked into Frank's eyes and saw his eyes were wet with tears. "He's…dead," she croaked, surprised she could even find her voice. Her whole body shook with violent sobs, and from her eyes came a thicker flow of tears than she had cried even for her own mother when she had died all those years ago. Frank was talking to her, for all the good it did. The whole world had vanished for her now, now there was only pain enough to break her, pain enough to change Nancy beyond recognition forever.

Nancy cried as if the ferocity of it might bring Ned back, as if by the sheer force of her grief the deed would be undone. He was her partner, and he could not be gone. Even from the top of the street, curtains were twitching as neighbors craned to locate the source of the screaming sobs that sent chills down their spines. Frank tried to hold her back, to calm her, even as his own tears fell thick and fast, but in her hysteria, she was too strong, too wild for him.

After standing and whirling about, unable to look through puffy eyes at Frank any longer, she tumbled away from Frank and onto the rain-kissed street. Frank watched her go, heartbroken, dissolved in the kind of despair that can take one's mind prisoner and never give it back. Once in the open, she sank to her knees in the middle of the street, bathed in the streetlamps and the headlights of the police chief's car. Nancy's wailing carried in the damp air, freezing the cops arriving on the scene in place, helpless, just like Frank. He was powerless to do anything for her.

Frank stayed with Nancy all night, just to be with her. "I'm here, Nan," he whispered as he held her. "I promise I'm not going anywhere. I am right here. Always. I'm not leaving you alone, ever again…"


	16. Chapter 16: Halloween

Carson Drew worried for his daughter. She looked at him as if the fire in her eyes had been dowsed with ice water, if anything it made the blue more pale. He was not used to it, it unnerved the lawyer, and not much could rattle Carson Drew. He wanted her to give freely as she always did, but she won't. It is as if she just crawled right back inside some invisible shell and no matter how hard he tried, she was unreachable. These days, the only one who could seem to have any sort of hold on her was Frank. Nancy moved her eyes more slowly, as if they were heavy, an effort to move. Carson wanted to crack his usual jokes, but he knew she wouldn't laugh. She needed to heal, and the only one who seemed to be able to help her do that was Frank Hardy. _Be there for her, Frank_, he thought sadly, as he watched his daughter disappear down the street sidewalk in the crisp October air a year after Ned Nickerson's death. _Help my daughter to heal_.

* * *

As she listened to a recording of Edgar Allen Poe's poem, _The Raven_, the deep, soothing voice of James Earl Jones flowed through their apartment, mysterious and alluring in his rendition of the famous piece. Nancy and Frank were working on their pumpkin carving, something admittedly, she wasn't very good at it, but was having fun. Though Nancy had carved the scariest faces she could into the pumpkins, they were not _nearly_ frightening enough. She wanted them to make those trick-or-treaters jump, because only then would they laugh and cling to one another all the way to her and Frank's front door. Moreover, that was just the start.

Nancy had a doorbell that would activate a smoke machine and shriek, and then she would make the big reveal in the costume that had taken so long to make—a witch, her costume a simple black maxi dress with a leg slit and to top it off, Bess had helped her find a fantastic cape and a hat. She had spider candy and slug marshmallows to give out, too, and some of her and Frank's favorites: Reese's, and the little Hershey's kisses. First things first, however, the pumpkins had to glare with soulless eyes. She huffed and stuck her hands on her hips. They were too round, too friendly; they were about as scary as a chocolate knife.

October in River Heights had almost evaporated into November and the air temperature was noticeably cooler. Halloween this year had fallen on a Saturday and the homes were more elaborately decorated for all the extra time and attention the neighbors put into their efforts: garages had become demonic dungeons, severed limbs poked from closed doors and dire warnings to trespassers were pasted with dripping red paint. Before the colors of the day had even softened or the shadows become giants on the cold sidewalk, the preschool kids already skipped between pumpkin marked homes, their quest for candy and endless supplies of chocolates under foot.

Working feverishly, Nancy scraped the sinewy gunk from her pumpkins to put the final additions on them so she could display them at last. Her movements were quick and furtive; she giggled a couple times and competed with Frank to tell the scariest tale. Nancy told of a vampire who only came out on Halloween night, he drinks the blood of an entire family then drapes their bodies over the grass.

Her voice became increasingly dramatic as she demonstrated the children's squeals of delight to see such realistic decorations. Then she got up to act out the next bit, trotting up to rap on the door with a delicate knuckle. She raised her eyebrows so high they almost disappeared into her thick red hair while she delivered the punch line in the huskiest voice she could muster. "They soon discover they are the treats!" Then before Frank could recover, she flicked out her fingers to send pumpkin seeds and slop raining down on her boyfriend. Now it's mayhem and neither of them were carving anymore.

The two glanced out the window after sharing a passionate kiss that smelled of pumpkin after their 'fight,' and smiled. Outside is dark as the eve ahead should be, their favorite holiday. The ambient day had given way to a frost and fog began to twist around the lampposts like cattails. At first, Nancy did not notice the color draining from the streets, things always looked grayer in the twilight.

"Hey Nan," whispered Frank softly, brushing a lock back of Nancy's hair behind her ear tenderly as they sat on their living room floor of their little apartment. They had moved in together following Ned's death so Frank could be there for Nancy, keep an eye on her. "Before the kids start knocking on our door, there's something I've always wanted to tell you," he said.

Nancy took a second to pop a piece of chocolate into her mouth and fell silent, mulling over her life as the sweet taste filled her mouth. When Nancy had been eleven, chocolate was simple. She wanted it. Dad rationed it. She ate it. She felt good and went to play. Now, over a decade later, she walked past the chocolate store on the way to her Monday to Friday grind and she had her own money. She could go there twice daily and not even have to go out of her way. She wouldn't even miss the digits from her bank account, Nancy earned enough money for it. Every day, she paused outside the mullioned display window. The confectioner focused on a small selection of his repertoire on each weekday. On Wednesdays there were pralines in caramel, white truffle and Brazil-nuts all coated in the most decadent of chocolate layers, thick but still soft to bite into. At first, Nancy had resisted going in and felt guilty when she caved. However, later, chocolate became simple again. Now, in her late twenties, she is a regular and greeted each morning by name. She buys a single chocolate to savor with her coffee on Mondays and Wednesday, on Friday's it's chocolate frosted donuts, and in just that moment, she is a child again and all of her worries dissipate instantly.

"What is it, Frank?" she questioned softly.

He hesitated, a pained expression on his face and in his eyes. He bit his lip, but finally just decided to come out and say it. "I know that…I'm not Ned," he finished at last, almost sounding apologetic.

"I'd never ask you to be that for me, Frank," she whispered, scooting closer and allowing Frank to wrap his arms around her middle, resting his chin on her shoulder. "You're you. Frank Hardy, the man who currently holds my heart safe in his pocket," she grinned, squirming in his arms to look at him.

He smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. "I know, Nance, I know that I don't. And that's one of many things I love about you, Nan. You know who you are and what you want, and…I hope that it's my job to always protect your heart," he said softly, pulling from his jeans pocket the simple yellow gold band.

Nancy stared. "Even after a year, you kept it?" she croaked, feeling her voice go hoarse and her face drain of color.

Frank nodded. "Yes," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know what I'm about to ask you would be risking so much, for you, especially, to take a chance on love again, having already lost so much, but there's no one I'd rather have you take that leap with than me, Nancy Drew. Will you marry me?"

Nancy froze, staring at the gold band that Ned had previously bought for her. When she found her voice again, she was surprised at how quiet she was. "Before you, I've only ever really loved one man, and he was so very different than you, Frank. I'm so happy to have met you, Frank Hardy, and I'm scared too. Such joy and pain exists in our lives in our line of work, but you know that better than anyone. I've never wanted any form of eternity until now. I never saw the point after Ned died, but you…you've changed all that for me. So stay, be in love with me too, Frank Hardy, be brave enough to take my hand."

Frank grinned. "So is that a yes?" he asked teasingly.

She nodded. "Yes," she whispered, pulling him close for a lingering kiss after he'd placed the ring on her finger. "Falling in love with you was the easy part. It's admitting to myself that it happened that was hard. You see, I have had these efficient defenses up for so long and you did not even notice them. How rude," she joked, when she pulled away from their kiss. "I guess they were meant for others and you had your own door, Frank. I could ask you why, but what's the point? You're here with me now, and I'm so glad, even if I'm sometimes hiding, imagining a distance instead of seeing you right here next to me, Frank. Having you in my life makes me feel like everything is possible in this world, as if I conquer anything. I don't regret meeting you, Frank Hardy, and I know you might not be my first love, but what I really wish in life is for you to be my last."

Frank grinned. "Yes, Mrs. Hardy," he teased, flashing a brilliant white smile her way and leaned in to kiss her again, and was interrupted by the chime of the doorbell. He winked at her. "Showtime, wouldn't you say?" he asked, helping his future bride to her feet.

Nancy nodded, hurrying to their bedroom to change into her costume. Her and Frank spent the entire night handing out candy to children, and once the curfew was in place and the lights out, eating the leftovers, basking in the warmth of their happiness.


	17. Chapter 17: Moving On

A full year after Ned's passing; the mourning had still not run its course. The heaviness was in her limbs as much as her mind. Things she used to find funny now only caused a deepening of the pain. Ned should have been there to laugh with her, or at her, or just be near her. He should be making his espressos in that damn expensive machine and complaining about the price of eggs. He should be gossiping about the kids he taught at the college worse than an old woman. But most of all he should be there to kiss her goodnight and kiss her before she left for work. She missed all that. Now there was just a graveyard, a stone that bore his name and his cold bones beneath the soil. Nancy had always been agnostic, but now she put all her faith in God to care for him and reunite them when her life was done. Nothing and nobody that good could simply disappear.

"You're waiting for me," she whispered, wiping away a single tear as it fell down her cheek. "I can feel it. I spent so long in that first stage of grief, in denial that you could be gone. However…here you are. I think I was in denial not for days or weeks, but months, Ned. Now that I can say that I love myself, that I deserve a good life, that you wouldn't want me to be alone, I can move on, Ned. I—I know you would want it. I've learned to stop thinking about it and making plans for my future. I wasn't able to go through the five stages of grief like everyone else, Ned, but I made it anyways, through the grief of losing you, and in that process I found someone better…I found me," she said, sniffling as she fought back her tears.

An alarm went off on Nancy's phone and she glanced down at it, startled. She was going to be late. Gently, she knelt down, kissing Ned's tombstone with slightly cracked lips and laying a fresh bouquet of flowers, as she did every month when she came here.

Bess and George chastised her heavily when she arrived to the community college's civic center, where they were waiting, Bess's makeup sprawled on a side table, and Nancy's dress in its garment bag. She smiled weakly, apologizing only halfheartedly as Bess shoved her into a chair, looking radiant in a simple purple bridesmaid dress, her blonde hair done up in an elegant loose chignon, her makeup simple. Nancy noticed affectionately the simple diamond engagement band that glittered on Bess's finger. "Bess," she said, her lips curving into a sly smile. "Do you have some news to share with us?"

She blushed, her cheeks flushing with color. "Okay, okay," she confessed, grabbing her curling iron and setting to work on Nancy's hair. "Joe and I are engaged, but we wanted to wait to tell everyone! Guess our secret is out, but forget I said anything, Nan! Today is your day," she protested lightly, ignoring George's delighted squeak and Nancy's light laughter. "Besides," she added, a pin between her teeth as she maneuvered her iron through Nancy's tresses, "no one's going to be looking at me today."

Nancy blew a stray strand of hair and studied her wedding dress as George gingerly slid it out of the garment bag. The dress truly was beautiful, a white floor-length dress made of chiffon, Boho chic in style, with a V neckline and short cap sleeves that flattered Nancy's slender figure and brought attention to her.

It had taken her trying on twelve dresses, four bridal shops and two boutiques with Bess and Frank's mom at her heels before she'd found the perfect one.

Bess worked swiftly and expertly, her deft fingers moving quickly to curl Nancy's hair and weave a waterfall braid through her shoulder length hair. George was at Bess's command, doing exactly as the fashionista instructed to apply a light natural makeup to Nancy's face the proper way, according to Bess, a method that involved a lot of moisturizers and primers. By the time they had finished and Bess dragged Nancy to the full-length mirror hanging on the back door, Nancy hardly recognized herself.

She looked like a queen in her simple wedding dress with her makeup done, her hairstyle also simple but perfect, with tiny little white flowers woven through her hair. Perfect for the young detective, just like her dress and her white flats. In her ears, she wore tiny pearl studs that had belonged to her mother. Nancy was a stunning bride. She fidgeted lovingly with the simple gold band that she was to place on Frank's finger in a few moments and took a deep breath, her bouquet in her hands.

"You ready?" asked Bess quietly, her and George flanking either side of her as they escorted her downstairs, where Carson would be waiting to walk his daughter down the aisle.

Nancy nodded. "I've been ready," she whispered.

Carson met the girls at the stairs, looking effortlessly handsome and dapper in a simple gray suit. His eyes watered a little when he saw his daughter, but he grinned and planted a gentle kiss on Nancy's cheek, taking her by the hand and offering her his arm. "You're beautiful, Nan," he said quietly. "Frank's a lucky man," he said softly. "I know…" he hesitated, but finally decided to say it. "Ned would have wanted you to be happy. To move on, find happiness."

Nancy smiled, choking back her tears. "I know."

"It's time," Carson said, checking his watching and straightening his tie. "Are you ready, Nance?" he asked, his kind eyes twinkling infectiously behind his glasses. "I don't think we want to keep him waiting."

"I'm ready," she whispered, feeling the beginnings of something warm well deep in her chest, and she realized it was excitement. At last, she was getting married. Though it was not to Ned as she intended, she realized her father was right in that he would have wanted her to find her happiness, and the fact that she had found it with Frank Hardy, a miracle.

Frank stood at the altar waiting for him, a radiant smile on his face, his black suit crisp and neat, his dark hair recently cut short and close, Joe as his best man standing next to him, occasionally shooting Bess flirtatious glances that caused Nancy to bite her tongue to keep from erupting into delighted laughter.

She could see a few familiar faces at the front pew, Chief McGinnis, Hannah, their housekeeper, of course, Frank and Joe's parents, and Lana and Eve. Lana had changed drastically following the death of Officer Perry, claiming she had misjudged Nancy, and had come to her frequently since for help on stories, even working together on collaborating on a few.

Frank winked at Nancy when they reached the altar, taking her from Carson, shaking Carson Drew's hand gratefully. "Sir," he said cordially, his tone serious.

"Take good care of her, Frank," he said, smiling, moving to sit next to Lana. It did not escape Nancy's attentions that Lana was shooting Carson interested glances. Perhaps by the end of the night, her father would get a date, after all. It was about time, too.

The small crowd gathered in the nave fell silent as the officiant spoke, a bespectacled thin man with red hair. "It is my great honor to officiate this wonderful ceremony today," he began, clasping his hands together and beaming. "I understand you've prepared your own vows. Frank, you may go first if you'd like."

Frank nodded, gripping both Nancy's hands tightly, as if he were to let go, he would never have her again. "Nancy," he began slowly, swallowing to quell the lump forming in his throat as he looked at his bride, "I have lived long enough to know that what you and I share, I can't replicate with another. This love, this feeling, it's just you and me, always. I could travel the entire world, and have frequently, and I'd still have to come right back here to River Heights if I wanted true love. It's not that nobody wants me, or you, but that we were born to spark and run the same course. We're the protectors of one another, true friends. I slipped my heart into your pocket some time ago and there it will stay, safe forever."

Nancy fought back her tears and gave a tiny cough to clear her throat. Her voice cracked only once as she spoke the words from her heart, not needing a piece of paper to tell her vows to Frank. "When I met you, I'd already lost my entire world. How can you hang onto something so incomprehensible? Were you and I ever strangers? I'm not sure we were. That day in the cafe that I first saw you, there was something there, even then, though I didn't know what it was, Frank. I wonder if there's an element of time that allows us to feel a strong love, light for our eyes only, something to carry us through this life. I'd give up anything in the world for you, I would do anything to keep you safe. I recall the day our bond was forged over lunch at Mimi's," she grinned, watching fondly as Frank's eyes lit up as he was remembering their first meet. "It was like…being let into the warmth after a lifetime in winter. I could never wish to go back to a day before that, Frank. You are the greatest treasure of my life, the one, the only one for me, Frank Hardy." Frank's smile that he gave his bride was one of happiness growing, much as a spring flower opens. Nancy could see how it came from deep inside to light his eyes and spread into every part of him. A person smiles with more than their mouth, and she heard it in his voice, in the choice of his words and the way he relaxed. To her, it was beautiful. Frank slipped the plain gold band on her finger, and in return, she placed his wedding band on his finger, and the officiant pronounced them husband and wife. Frank's eyes were gazing into Nancy's as if he was looking far beyond the hair and her makeup. She stood and stared back into the pools of deep brown that were her husband's eyes. He pulled her close, his forehead touching hers, and she felt an incredible warmth. One that she had never experienced before, not even with Ned. It filled her body from head to toe, invigorating her and filling her with a passion and hope that was powerful beyond any words imaginable. He leaned his head closer to Nancy's, and his lips met hers, the congregation behind them erupting into cheers, though they noticed none of it. Gentle but passionate, he pressed his lips into hers. The world around Nancy slowed, so she could be in this moment. Her heart fluttered, she kissed her new husband back, cherishing the moment and Frank. His lips were soft and warm. He put his hand on the back of her head, pulling her closer to him in his embrace. They pulled back, smiling, before turning to face the crowd before them, practically swarming the young detectives, ready to congratulate them. She lay her head on his shoulder, and though she was still filled with warmth from their kiss, she shivered. Their hands interlocked, she admired their simple plain wedding bands, perfect for them. The newlyweds hung back after the reception, just savoring the moment, watching their family and friends dance. Nancy caught a glimpse of her husband, noticing how serene and at peace he looked.

_I'm in love with him_, she thought happily, feeling a genuine smile form on her face, the most she'd smiled today in a long time since Ned's passing. _He never leaves my mind, he's always there, mentally if not physically. __It's just incomprehensible. He's my one stable force, my one stability in a world filled with chaos and I so desperately need that in my life. I love him so much for that. I'm in love with him. This feeling is so strange; it stretches throughout my whole body. It's overwhelming, yet makes me feel complete. It has no bound nor length nor depth; it's just absolute. It feels as though I am in a dangerous fire, yet I am completely safe at the same time. It feels as though someone has given me peace. It feels as though my heart is dancing around my chest; and a hole, I was never aware was there, has been filled. I feel so light, like I am on top of the world yet my heart is constricting and it feels as if there is no oxygen in my lungs. It's strange – frightening even – how you can go from someone being a complete stranger, to then being completely infatuated by them and wondering how it ever was that you were able to live without them, because you sure as hell couldn't imagine being without them now. I know we're only young, and most people would consider me to be foolish and naive, but it's true when I say that I love him more than I could ever love myself. Frank Hardy my best friend and, as cheesy as it sounds, he is my anchor. My one stability in this world filled with chaos_. _They say that love is this magical thing, and for me, my magic started at the coffee shop down the road, the day my life changed forever, and I wouldn't have it any other way. When I'm with Frank, I'm home... _

"Excuse, Mrs...Hardy, now, is it?" A man's spoke up behind her, startling the newlywed out of her musings. The couple turned, their eyes wide as they found themselves face-to-face with an unexpected wedding guest. His vibrant purple and blue hair stuck out in wild tufts, his black rimmed glasses constantly sliding down his nose. Nevertheless, he was looking sharp in a simple black suit, and Nancy noticed with some amusement the elusive Sonny Joon was eyeing George in her purple bridesmaid dress with great interest. "I was hoping to see you again, it's been a while, hasn't it, Nancy?" he said warmly, not waiting to be given permission to envelope the couple in a tight hug. "Sorry for crashing your little party, but if you both are interested, I have a new case for you, when you're ready. You were the first person I thought of, Nancy. I hope you'll take the case," he grinned, flashing a brilliant white smile at the two of them, before handing Frank a file and disappearing into the throng of people dancing, grabbing George by the hand, leading her away to do God knows what, only Nancy could guess, and she wasn't sure she wanted to.

Frank turned to Nancy, an infectious grin forming on his handsome face. "What do you say, Nance? Feel up for another adventure? _After_ our honeymoon, of course," he teased.

Nancy grabbed Frank's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Anywhere you go, I go too, Frank. As long as I'm with you, anywhere in the world is home to me."

* * *

A/N: Annd that's a wrap for my first Nancy Drew short story! I'm already hard at work, working on a sequel to this one, so stay tuned, **Murder on Main Street** will be out shortly and we haven't heard the last of Frank, Nancy, or Sonny! :)


End file.
